^\n 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  Of  CALIFORNIA 


> 

,            Ex  Libris            ' 

'      ISAAC   FOOT     . 

> 

UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 


a 


WORKS  BY  STANLEY  \YEYMAN 


The  House  of  the  Wolf 

The  New  Rector 

The  Story  of  Francis  Cludde 

A  Gentleman  of  France 

The  Man  in  Black 

Under  the  Red  Robe 

My  Lady  Rotha 


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;UNDER 
THE    RED    ROBE 


BY 

STANLEY  T.  WEYMAN 

AUTHOR   OF    'a   GENTLEMAN    OF    FRANCE,'    '  THE   HOUSE   OF   THE   WOLF,' 


THE   STORY   OF    FRANCIS   CLUDDE 


WITH   TWELVE   ILLUSTRATIONS    BY   R     CATON    WOODVILLE 


METHUEN     &    CO. 
36    ESSEX    STREET,     LONDON,    W.C, 

1894 


El  J- US- 


TO 

MY   DEAR    FRIEND 

C.  K.  E.  P. 

I 

DeDtcate  tbis  Story 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    . 

PAGE 

AT  ZATON'S     .  ....••! 

CHAPTER  II. 

AT  THE   GREEN   PILLAR  ....  29 

CHAPTER  HI. 

THE   HOUSE   IN   THE  WOOD   .....  57 

CHAPTER  IV. 

MADAME  AND   MADEMOISELLE  .  .  •  .83 

CHAPTER  V. 

REVENGE  .......         109 

CHAPTER  VI. 

UNDER  THE   PIC   DU    MIDI      .....  I36 

CPIAPTER  VII. 

A   MASTER   STROKE      .  .  .  .  .  .         I63 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  MASTER  STKOKK—conimued 


■  • 


CLON   . 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  ARREST  .... 

CHAPTER  XII. 
THE   ROAD  TO   PARIS 


PAGE 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  QUESTION  .  .  .  .  .  .190 

CHAPTER  X. 


217 


24s 


•       274 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AT    THE   KlXGER-rOST  .....         299 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
ST  martin's  eve        ......      327 

CHAPTER  X\  . 
ST  martin's  summer  .....      342 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


•undoubtedly,'      I      REPLIED,       'IF      HE      PREFERS       TO       BE 

CANED  IN  THE  STREETS,'  ....     Frontispiece 

I   MADE,    THEREFORE,    FOR    THE  GREEN  PILLAR,    A    LITTLE    INN     PAGE 
IN   THE   VILLAGE   STREET,    .....  30 

'I    AM    M.     DE     BARTHE,     A    GENTLEMAN     OF     NORMANDY,'     I 

SAID,  .......  76 

'  YOU  SPY  !  '  SHE  CRIED.  '  YOU  HOUND  !  YOU  GENTLE- 
MAN ! '  .  .  .  ,  .  .  .        104 

OUTSIDE  THE  DOOR,  IN  THE  ROAD,  SITTING  ON  HORSE- 
BACK  IN   SILENCE,    WERE   TWO   MEN,  .  ,  .         I29 

ONE    OF    THE    MEN    LAUGHED,     AND    THE     OTHER     BEGAN     TO 

SING   A   LOW  SONG,  .  .  .  .  .  .165 

'  YOU     SEEM     SURPRISED     TO     SEE     ME     HERE.       BELIEVE     ME, 

I   AM  MUCH   MORE   SURPRISED   TO  SEE  YOU,'  .  .         185 

THE  CAPTAIN  AND  THE  LIEUTENANT  WERE  WAITING 
.  .  .  THE  CAPTAIN  HAD  REMOVED  HIS  DOUBLET, 
AND   STOOD   LEANING   AGAINST   THE   SUNDIAL,      .  .         202 

I   SPRANG  THROUGH  THE  LINE  OF   SOLDIERS,       .  .  .  226 

'  MY  GOD  !  '   I   CRIED,  ......  252 

'  YOU   VILLAIN  !  '   HE   CRIED,    RIDING   AT   ME   AGAIN,        .  .  292 

STARING  AFTER   ME   ACROSS   HER   BODY,  .  .  .  326 


UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 


CHAPTER    I 

AT     ZATON'S 

•TV  TARKED  CARDS!' 

There  were  a  score  round  us  when  the 
fool,  little  knowing  the  man  with  whom  he  had 
to  deal,  and  as  little  how  to  lose  like  a  gentle- 
man, flung  the  words  in  my  teeth.  He  thought, 
>^ril  be  sworn,  that  I  should  storm  and  swear  and 
ruffle  it  like  any  common  cock  of  the  hackle. 
But  that  was  never  Gil  de  Berault's  way.  For 
a  few  seconds  after  he  had  spoken  1  did  not 
even  look  at  him.  I  passed  my  eye  mstead — 
smiling,  bien  entetidu — round  the  ring  of  waiting 
faces,   saw   that   there    was    no    one    except    Dc 


i  UNDER  THE  RED  ROB& 

Pombal  i  had  cause  to  fear;  and  then  at  last 
I  rose  and  looked  at  the  fool  with  the  grim  face 
I  have  known  impose  on  older  and  wiser 
men. 

'  Marked  cards,  M.  I'Anglais  ? '  I  said,  with  a 
chilling  sneer.  'They  are  used,  I  am  told,  to 
trap  players — not  unbirched  schoolboys.' 

'  Yet  I  say  that  they  are  marked  I '  he  replied 
hotly,  in  his  queer  foreign  jargon.  '  In  my  last 
hand  I  had  nothing.  You  doubled  the  stakes. 
Bah,  sir,  you  knew !     You  have  swindled  me ! ' 

'Monsieur  is  easy  to  swindle  —  when  he  plays 
with  a  mirror  behind  him,'  I  answered  tartly. 

At  that  there  was  a  great  roar  of  laughter, 
which  might  have  been  heard  in  the  street,  and 
which  brought  to  the  table  everyone  in  the  eating- 
house  whom  his  voice  had  not  already  attracted. 
But  I  did  not  relax  my  face.  I  waited  until  all 
was  quiet  again,  and  then  waving  aside  two  or 
three  who  stood  between  us  and  the  entrance,  I 
pointed  gravely  to  the  door. 

'  There  is  a  little  space  behind  the  church  of  St 
Jacques,  M.  I'Etrangcr,'  I  said,  putting  on  my  hat 


AT  ZATON'S  3 

and  taking  my  cloak  on  my  arm.  '  Doubtless  you 
will  accompany  me  thither  ? ' 

He  snatched  up  his  hat,  his  face  burning  with 
shame  and  rage. 

'  With  pleasure  ! '  he  blurted  out.  '  To  the  devil, 
if  you  like  t ' 

I  thought  the  matter  arranged,  when  the  Marquis 
laid  his  hand  on  the  young  fellow's  arm  and 
checked  him. 

'  This  must  not  be,'  he  said,  turning  from  him  to 
me  with  his  grand,  fine-gentleman's  air.  '  You 
know  me,  M.  de  Berault.  This  matter  has  gone 
far  enough.' 

'  Too  far !  M.  de  Pombal,'  I  answered  bitterly. 
*  Still,  if  you  wish  to  take  your  friend's  place,  I 
shall  raise  no  objection.' 

*  Chut,  man ! '  he  retorted,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  negligently.  '  I  know  you,  and  I  do 
not  fight  with  men.  of  your  stamp.  Nor  need  this 
gentleman.' 

'  Undoubtedly,*  I  replied,  bowing  low,  '  if  he 
prefers  to  be  caned  in  the  streets.' 

That  stung  the  Marquis. 


4  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

*  Have   a  care !  have   a   care ! '   he  cried  hotly. 

*  You  go  too  far,  M.  Berault.' 

'  De  Berault,  if  you  please,'  I  objected,  eyeing 
him  sternly.  '  My  family  has  borne  the  de  as  long 
as  yours,  M.  de  Pombal' 

He    could    not   deny   that,   and    he    answered, 

*  As  you  please  ; '  at  the  same  time  restraining 
his  friend  by  a  gesture.  •  But  none  the  less,' 
he  continued,  '  take  my  advice.  The  Cardinal 
has  forbidden  duelling,  and  this  time  he  means 
it !  You  have  been  in  trouble  once  and  gone 
free.  A  second  time  it  may  fare  worse  with 
you.  Let  this  gentleman  go,  therefore,  M.  de 
Berault.  Besides — why,  shame  upon  you,  man  ! ' 
he  exclaimed  hotly  ;  '  he  is  but  a  lad  ! ' 

Two  or  three  who  stood  behind  me  applauded 
that.  But  I  turned  and  they  met  my  eye ;  and 
they  were  as  mum  as  mice. 

•  His  age  is  his  own  concern,'  I  said  grimly. 
'He  was  old  enough  a  while  ago  to  insult  me. 

'  And  I  will  prove  my  words ! '  the  lad  cried, 
exploding  at  last.  He  had  spirit  enough,  and 
the  Marquis  had  had  hard  worl:  to  restrain  him 


AT  ZATON'S  S 

so  long.  '  You  do  me  no  service,  M.  de  Pombal,' 
he  continued,  pettishly  shaking  ofif  his  friend's 
hand.  *By  your  leave,  this  gentleman  and  I 
will  settle  this  matter.' 

'That  is  better,'  I  said,  nodding  drily,  while 
the  Marquis  stood  aside,  frowning  and  baffled. 
'Permit  me  to  lead  the  way.' 

Zaton's  eating-house  stands  scarcely  a  hundred 
paces  from  St  Jacques  la  Boucherie,  and  half  the 
company  went  thither  with  us.  The  evening 
was  wet,  the  light  in  the  streets  was  waning,  the 
streets  themselves  were  dirty  and  slippery.  There 
were  few  passers  in  the  Rue  St  Antoine ;  and 
our  party,  which  earlier  in  the  day  must  have 
attracted  notice  and  a  crowd,  crossed  unmarked, 
and  entered  without  interruption  the  paved 
triangle  which  lies  immediately  behind  the 
church.  I  saw  in  the  distance  one  of  the 
Cardinal's  guard  loitering  in  front  of  the 
scaffolding  round  the  new  Hotel  Richelieu ;  and 
the  sight  of  the  uniform  gave  me  pause  for  a 
moment.     But  it  was  too  late  to  repent. 

The  Englishman  began  at  once  to  strip  off  his 


6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

clothes,  I  closed  mine  to  the  throat,  for  the  air 
was  chilly.  At  that  moment,  while  we  stood 
preparing,  and  most  of  the  company  seemed  a 
little  inclined  to  stand  off  from  me,  I  felt  a 
hand  on  my  arm,  and,  turning,  saw  the  dwarf- 
ish tailor  at  whose  house,  in  the  Rue  Savon- 
nerie,  I  lodged  at  the  time.  The  fellow's  pre- 
sence was  unwelcome,  to  say  the  least  of  it ;  and 
though  for  want  of  better  company  I  had  some- 
times encouraged  him  to  be  free  with  me  at  home, 
I  took  that  to  be  no  reason  why  I  should  be 
plagued  with  him  before  gentlemen.  I  shook 
him  off,  therefore,  hoping  by  a  frown  to  silence 
him. 

He  was  not  to  be  so  easily  put  down,  how- 
ever, and  perforce  I  had  to  speak  to  him. 

*  Afterwards,  afterwards,'  I  said  hurriedly.  '  I 
am  engaged  now.' 

•  For  God's  sake,  don't,  sir ! '  the  poor  fool 
cried,  clinging  to  my  sleeve.  '  Don't  do  it ! 
Vou  will  bring  a  curse  on  the  house.  He  is 
but  a  lad,  and — * 

'  You,  too  I '   I  exclaimed,  losing  patience.     '  Be 


AT  ZATON'S  7 

silent,  you  scum !  What  do  you  know  about 
gentlemen's  quarrels  ?     Leave  me  ;  do  you  hear  ? ' 

'  But  the  Cardinal ! '  he  cried  in  a  quavering 
voice.  •  The  Cardinal,  M.  de  Berault !  The 
last  man  you  killed  is  not  forgotten  yet.  This 
time  he  will  be  sure  to — ' 

•Leave  me,  do  you  hear?'  I  hissed.  The 
fellow's  impudence  passed  all  bounds.  It  was 
as  bad  as  his  croaking.  *  Begone ! '  I  added. 
'  I  suppose  you  are  afraid  that  he  will  kill  me, 
and  you  will  lose  your  money.' 

Frison  fell  back  at  that  almost  as  if  I  had 
struck  him,  and  I  turned  to  my  adversary,  who 
had  been  awaiting  my  motions  with  impatience. 
God  knows  he  did  look  young  as  he  stood  with 
his  head  bare  and  his  fair  hair  drooping  over  his 
smooth  woman's  forehead — a  mere  lad  fresh  from 
the  college  of  Burgundy,  if  they  have  such  a 
thing  in  England.  I  felt  a  sudden  chill  as  I 
looked  at  him :  a  qualm,  a  tremor,  a  presenti- 
ment. What  was  it  the  little  tailor  had  said? 
That  I  should — but  tLere,  he  did  not  know. 
What   did   he   know   of  such   things?      If  I    let 


8  UNDER  THE  RED  R023 

this  pass  I  must  kill  a  man  a  day,  oi  leave 
Paris  and  the  eating-house,  and  starve. 

'  A  thousand  pardons,'  I  said  gravely,  as  I  drew 
and  took  my  place.  'A  dun.  I  am  sorry  that 
the  poor  devil  caught  me  so  inopportunely.  Now, 
however,  I  am  at  your  service.' 

He  saluted  and  we  crossed  swords  and  began. 
But  from  the  first  I  had  no  doubt  what  the 
result  would  be.  The  slippery  stones  and  fading 
light  gave  him,  it  is  true,  some  chance,  some 
advantage,  more  than  he  deserved ;  but  I  had 
no  sooner  felt  his  blade  than  I  knew  that  he 
was  no  swordsman.  Possibly  he  had  taken 
half-a-dozen  lessons  in  rapier  art,  and  practised 
what  he  learned  with  an  Englishman  as  heavy 
and  awkward  as  himself.  But  that  was  all.  He 
made  a  few  wild  clumsy  rushes,  parrying  widely. 
When  I  had  foiled  these,  the  danger  was  over, 
and  I  held  him  at  my  mercy. 

I  played  with  him  a  little  while,  watching  the 
sweat  gather  on  his  brow,  and  the  shadow  of 
the  church  tower  fall  deeper  and  darker,  like  the 
.shadow  of  doom,  on  his  face.     Not  out  of  cruelty 


AT  ZATON'S  9 

—God  knows  I  have  never  erred  in  that  direction  ! 
—but  because,  for  the  rirst  time  in  my  life,  I 
felt  a  strange  reluctance  to  strike  the  blow.  The 
curls  clung  to  his  forehead  ;  his  breath  came  and 
went  in  gasps ;  I  heard  the  men  behind  me 
murmur,  and  one  or  two  of  them  drop  an  oath ; 
and  then  I  slipped — slipped,  and  was  down  in  a 
moment  on  my  right  side,  my  elbow  striking  the 
pavement  so  sharply  that  the  arm  grew  numb  to 
the  wrist. 

He  held  off.  I  heard  a  dozen  voices  cry,  '  Now ! 
now  you  have  him  ! '  But  he  held  off.  He  stood 
back  and  waited  with  his  breast  heaving  and  his 
point  lowered,  until  I  had  risen  and  stood  again 
on  my  guard. 

'  Enough !  enough  ! '  a  rough  voice  behind  me 
cried.     '  Don't  hurt  the  man  after  that' 

'On  guard,  sir!'  I  answered  coldly — for  he 
seemed  to  waver,  and  be  in  doubt.  '  It  was  an 
accident.     It  shall  not  avail  you  again.' 

Several  voices  cried  '  Shame ! '  and  one,  '  You 
coward ! '  But  the  Englishman  stepped  forward, 
a  fixed  look  in  his  blue  eyes.     He  took  his  place 


lo  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

without  a  word.  I  read  in  his  drawn  white  face 
that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  the  worst,  and 
his  courage  so  won  my  admiration  that  I  would 
gladly  and  thankfully  have  set  one  of  the  lookers- 
on — any  of  the  lookers-on — in  his  place  ;  but  that 
could  not  be.  So  I  thought  of  Zaton's  closed  to 
me,  of  Pombal's  insult,  of  the  sneers  and  slights 
I  had  long  kept  at  the  sword's  point ;  and,  pressing 
him  suddenly  in  a  heat  of  affected  anger,  I  thrust 
strongly  over  his  guard,  which  had  grown  feeble, 
and  ran  him  through  the  chest. 

When  I  saw  him  lying,  laid  out  on  the  stones 
with  his  eyes  half  shut,  and  his  face  glimmering 
white  in  the  dusk — not  that  I  saw  him  thus  long, 
for  there  were  a  dozen  kneeling  round  him  in  a 
twinkling — I  felt  an  unwonted  pang.  It  passed, 
however,  in  a  moment.  For  I  found  myself  con- 
fronted by  a  ring  of  angry  faces — of  men  who, 
keeping  at  a  distance,  hissed  and  cursed  and 
threatened  me,  calling  me  Black  Death  and  the 
like. 

They  were  mostly  canaille,  who  had  gathered 
during  the  fight,  and  had  viewed  all  that  passed 


AT  ZATON'S  II 

from  the  farther  side  of  the  railings.  While  some 
snarled  and  raged  at  me  like  wolves,  calling  me 
'Butcher!'  and  *  Cut-throat ! '  or  cried  out  that 
Berault  was  at  his  trade  again,  others  threatened 
me  with  the  vengeance  of  the  Cardinal,  flung  the 
edict  in  my  teeth,  and  said  with  glee  that  the 
guard  were  coming— they  would  see  me  hanged 
yet. 

*  His  blood  is  on  your  head ! '  one  cried 
furiously.  *  He  will  be  dead  in  an  hour.  And 
you  will  swing  for  him  !     Hurrah  ! ' 

'  Begone,'  I  said. 

*  Ay,'  to  Montfaucon,  he  answered,  mocking 
me. 

'  No  ;  to  your  kennel ! '  I  replied,  with  a  look 
which  sent  him  a  yard  backwards,  though  the 
railings  were  between  us.  And  I  wiped  my 
blade  carefully,  standing  a  little  apart.  For — 
well,  I  could  understand  it — it  was  one  of  those 
moments  v/hen  a  man  is  not  popular.  Those 
who  had  come  with  me  from  the  eating-house 
eyed  me  askance,  and  turned  their  backs  when 
I    drew   nearer;    and    those    who   had   joined    us 


12  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

and    obtained     admission     were     scarcely     more 
polite. 

'But  I  was  not  to  be  outdone  in  sang  froid. 
I  cocked  my  hat,  and  drawing  my  cloak  over 
my  shoulders,  went  out  with  a  swagger  which 
drove  the  curs  from  the  gate  before  I  came 
within  a  dozen  paces  of  it.  The  rascals  outside 
fell  back  as  quickly,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  in 
the  street.  Another  moment  and  I  should  have 
been  clear  of  the  place  and  free  to  lie  by  for 
a  while — when,  without  warning,  a  scurry  took 
place  round  me.  The  crowd  fled  every  way 
into  the  gloom,  and  in  a  hand-turn  a  dozen  of 
the  Cardinal's  guards  closed  round  me. 

I  had  some  acquaintance  with  the  officer  in 
command,  and  he  saluted  me  civilly. 

'  This  is  a  bad  business,  M.  de  Berault,'  he 
said.     '  The  man  is  dead  they  tell  me.' 

'  Neither  dying  nor  dead,'  I  answered  lightly, 
'  If  that  be  all  you  may  go  home  again.' 

'  With  you,  he  replied,  with  a  grin,  '  certainly 
And  as  it  rains,  the  sooner  the  better.  I  must 
ask  you  for  your  sword,  I  am  afraid.' 


AT  ZATON'S  13 

*  Take  it/  I  said,  with  the  philosophy  which 
never  deserts  me.  *  But  the  man  will  not 
die.' 

'  I  hope  that  may  avail  you,'  he  answered  in 
a  tone  I  did  not  like.  '  Left  wheel,  my  friends ! 
To  the  Chatelet !     March  ! ' 

'  There  are  worse  places,'  I  said,  and  resigned 
myself  to  fate.  After  all,  I  had  been  in  a  prison 
before,  and  learned  that  only  one  jail  lets  no 
prisoner  escape. 

But  when  I  found  that  my  friend's  orders 
were  to  hand  me  over  to  the  watch,  and  that  I 
was  to  be  confined  like  any  common  jail-bird 
caught  cutting  a  purse  or  slitting  a  throat,  I 
confess  my  heart  sank.  If  I  could  get  speech 
with  the  Cardinal,  all  would  probably  be  well ; 
but  if  I  failed  in  this,  or  if  the  case  came  before 
him  in  strange  guise,  or  if  he  were  in  a  hard 
mood  himself,  then  it  might  go  ill  with  me. 
The  edict  said,  death ! 

And  the  lieutenant  at  the  Chatelet  did  not 
put  himself  to  much  trouble  to  hearten  me. 
'What!  again,  M.  de   Berault?'  he   said,   raising 


14  UNDER  THE  RED  ROP.E 

his  eyebrows  as  he  received  me  at  the  gate,  and 
recognised  me  by  the  light  of  the  brazier  which 
his  men  were  just  kindling  outside.  'You  are 
a  ver>''  bold  man,  or  a  very  foolhardy  one, 
to  come  here  again.  The  old  business,  I 
suppose  ? ' 

'Yes,  but  he  is  not  dead,'  I  answered  coolly. 
'  He  has  a  trifle — a  mere  scratch.  It  was  behind 
the  church  of  St  Jacques.* 

•  He  looked  dead  enough,  my  friend,'  the 
guardsman  interposed.     He  had  not  yet  left  us. 

'Bah!'  I  answered  scornfully.  'Have  you  ever 
known  me  make  a  mistake?  When  I  kill  a 
man  I  kill  him.  I  put  myself  to  pains,  I  tell 
you,  not  to  kill  this  Englishman.  Therefore  he 
will  live.' 

'  I  hope  so,'  the  lieutenant  said,  with  a  dry 
smile.  '  And  you  had  better  hope  so,  too,  M.  de 
Iicrault.     For  if  not — ' 

♦Well?'  I  said,  somewhat  troubled.  'If  not, 
what,  my  friend  ? ' 

'  I  fear  he  will  be  the  last  man  you  will  fight,' 
he   answered.      '  And    even    if  he   lives.    I    would 


AT  Z AXON'S  IS 

not  be  too  sure,  my  friend.  This  time  the 
Cardinal  is  determined  to  put  it  down.' 
*  He  and  I  are  old  friends,'  I  said  confidently, 
'So  I  have  heard,'  he  answered,  with  a  short 
laugh.  *I  think  that  the  same  was  said  of 
Chalais.  I  do  not  remember  that  it  saved  his 
head.' 

This  was  not  reassuring.  But  worse  was  to 
come.  Early  in  the  morning  orders  were  re- 
ceived that  I  should  be  treated  with  especial 
strictness,,  and  I  was  given  the  choice  between 
irons  and  one  of  the  cells  below  the  level.  Choos- 
ing the  latter,  I  was  left  to  reflect  upon  many 
things ;  among  others,  on  the  queer  and  un- 
certain nature  of  the  Cardinal,  who  loved,  I 
knew,  to  play  with  a  man  as  a  cat  with  a 
mouse ;  and  on  the  ill  effects  which  sometimes 
attend  a  high  chest-thrust  however  carefully  de- 
livered. I  only  rescue;'  myself  at  last  from 
these  and  other  unpleasant  reflections  by  obtain- 
ing the  loan  of  a  pair  of  dice;  and  the  light 
being  just  enough  to  enable  me  to  reckon  the 
throws,   I   amused    myself  for   hours    by   casting 


i6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

them  on  certain  principles  of  my  own.  But  a 
long  run  again  and  again  upset  mj'  calculations ; 
and  at  last  brought  me  to  the  conclusion  that 
a  run  of  bad  luck  may  be  so  persistent  as  to 
see  out  the  most  sagacious  player.  This  was 
not  a  reflection  very  welcome  to  me  at  the 
moment. 

Nevertheless,  for  three  days  it  was  all  the  com- 
pany I  had.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  the  knave 
of  a  jailor  who  attended  me,  and  who  bad  never 
grown  tired  of  telling  me,  after  the  fashion  of  his 
kind,  that  I  should  be  hanged,  came  to  me  with 
a  less  assured  air. 

'  Perhaps  you  would  like  a  little  water  ? '  he 
said  civilly. 

'  Why,  rascal  ? '  I  asked. 

'  To  wash  with,'  he  answered. 

'  I  asked  for  some  yesterday,  and  you  would  not 
bring  it,'  I  grumbled.  '  However,  better  late  than 
never.  Bring  it  now.  If  I  must  hang,  I  will  hang 
like  a  gentleman.  But,  depend  upon  it,  the 
Cardinal  will  not  serve  an  old  friend  so  scurvy 
a  trick.* 


AT  Z AXON'S  ?7 

'You  are  to  go  to  him,'  he  announced,  when 
he  came  back  with  the  water. 

'  What  ?     To  the  Cardinal  ? '  I  cried. 
'  Yes,'  he  answered. 

*  Good  ! '  I  exclaimed ;  and  in  my  joy  and  relief  I 
sprang  up  at  once,  and  began  to  refresh  my  dress. 
'  So  all  this  time  I  have  been  doing  him  an  injustice,' 
I  continued.  '  Vive  Monseigneur!  Long  live  the  little 
Bishop  of  Luchon  !     I  might  have  known  it,  too.' 

•  Don't  make  too  sure ! '  the  man  answered  spite- 
fully. Then  he  went  on,  '  I  have  something  else 
for  you.  A  friend  of  yours  left  it  at  the  gate,' 
and  he  handed  me  a  packet. 

'  Quite   so ! '    I   said,   reading  his   rascally   face 

aright.     'And  you  kept  it  as  long  as  you  dared 

— as   long   as   you   thought   I    should   hang,   you 

knave!      Was  not  that  so?     But  there,  do  not 

lie  to  me.     Tell  me  instead  which  of  my  friends 

left  it.'      For,  to  confess  the  truth,   I  had  not  so 

many  friends  at  this  time ;   and  ten  good  crowns 

— the  packet  contained  no  less  a  sum — argued  a 

pretty  staunch   friend,  and  one  of  whom   a   man 

might  reasonably  be  proud. 

B 


i8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

The  knave  sniggered  maliciously.  '  A  crooked 
dwarfish  man  left  it,'  he  said.  '  I  doubt  I  might 
call  him  a  tailor  and  not  be  far  out' 

'  Chut ! '  I  answered — but  I  was  a  little  out  of 
countenance,  nevertheless.  '  I  understand.  An 
honest  fellow  enough,  and  in  debt  to  me !  I  am 
glad  he  remembered.  But  when  am  I  to  go, 
friend  ? ' 

'  In  an  hour,'  he  answered  sullenly.  Doubtless 
he  had  looked  to  get  one  of  the  crowns  ;  but  I 
was  too  old  a  hand  for  that.  If  I  came  back  I 
could  buy  his  services ;  and  if  I  did  not  I  should 
have  wasted  my  money. 

Nevertheless,  a  little  later,  when  I  found  myself 
on  my  way  to  the  Hotel  Richelieu  under  so  close 
a  guard  that  I  could  see  nothing  in  the  street 
except  the  figures  that  immediately  surrounded 
me,  I  wished  that  I  had  given  him  the  money. 
At  such  times,  when  all  hangs  in  the  balance  and 
the  sky  is  overcast,  the  mind  runs  on  luck  and 
old  superstitions,  and  is  prone  to  think  a  crown 
given  here  may  avail  there  —  though  there  be  a 
hundred  leagues  away. 


AT  ZATON'S  19 

The  Palais  Richelieu  was  at  this  time  in  build- 
ing, and  we  vvere  required  to  wait  in  a  long,  bare 
gallery,  where  the  masons  were  at  work.  I  was 
kept  a  full  hour  here,  pondering  uncomfortably 
on  the  strange  whims  and  fancies  of  the  great 
man  who  then  ruled  France  as  the  King's  Lieu- 
tenant-General,  with  all  the  King's  powers,  and 
whose  life  I  had  once  been  the  means  of  saving 
by  a  little  timely  information.  On  occasion  he 
had  done  something  to  wipe  out  the  debt ;  and 
at  other  times  he  had  permitted  me  to  be  free 
with  him,  and  so  far  we  were  not  unknown  to 
one  another. 

Nevertheless,  when  the  doors  were  at  last  thrown 
open,  and  I  was  led  into  his  presence,  my  confi- 
dence underwent  a  shock.  His  cold  glance,  that, 
roving  over  me,  regarded  me  not  as  a  man  but  an 
item,  the  steely  glitter  of  his  southern  eyes,  chilled 
me  to  the  bone.  The  room  was  bare,  the  floor 
without  carpet  or  covering.  Some  of  the  wood- 
work lay  about,  unfinished  and  in  pieces.  But 
the  man — this  man,  needed  no  surroundings.  His 
keen  pale  face,  his  brilliant  eyes,  even  his  presence 


20  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

— though  he  was  of  no  great  height,  and  began 
already  to  stoop  at  the  shoulders — were  enough  to 
awe  the  boldest.  I  recalled,  as  I  looked  at  him, 
a  hundred  tales  of  his  iron  will,  his  cold  heart, 
his  unerring  craft.  He  had  humbled  the  King's 
brother,  the  splendid  Duke  of  Orleans,  in  the  dust. 
He  had  curbed  the  Queen-mother.  A  dozen  heads, 
the  noblest  in  France,  had  come  to  the  block 
through  him.  Only  two  years  before  he  had 
quelled  Rochelle ;  only  a  few  months  before  he 
had  crushed  the  great  insurrection  in  Languedoc : 
and  though  the  south,  stripped  of  its  old  privileges, 
still  seethed  with  discontent,  no  one  in  this  year 
1630  dared  lift  a  hand  against  him — openly,  at 
at  any  rate.  Under  the  surface  a  hundred  plots 
a  thousand  intrigues,  sought  his  life  or  his  power ; 
but  these,  I  suppose,  are  the  hap  of  every  great 
man. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  the  courage  on  which 
I  plumed  myself  sank  low  at  sight  of  him  ;  or 
that  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  mingle 
with  the  humility  of  my  salute  some  touch  of 
the  satig  froid  of  old  acquaintnnccship. 


AT  ZATON'S  21 

And  perhaps  that  had  been  better  left  out 
For  it  seemed  that  this  man  was  without  bowels. 
For  a  moment,  while  he  stood  looking  at  me, 
and  before  he  spoke  to  me,  I  gave  myself  up 
for  lost.  There  was  a  glint  of  cruel  satisfaction 
in  his  eyes  that  warned  me,  before  he  opened 
his  mouth,  what  he  was  going  to  say  to  me. 

'  I  could  not  have  made  a  better  catch,  M.  de 
Berault,'  he  said,  smiling  villainously,  while  he 
gently  smoothed  the  fur  of  a  cat  that  had  sprung 
on  the  table  beside  him.  '  An  old  offender,  and 
an  excellent  example.  I  doubt  it  will  not  stop 
with  you.  But  later,  we  w^ill  make  you  the  warrant 
for  flying  at  higher  game. 

'  Monseigneur  has  handled  a  sword  himself,' 
I  blurted  out  The  very  room  seemed  to  be 
growing  darker,  the  air  colder.  I  was  never 
nearer  fear  in  my  life. 

•  Yes  ? '  he  said,  smiling  delicately.  '  And 
so—?' 

'  Will  not  be  too  hard  on  the  failings  of  a  poor 
gentleman,* 

'  He  shall  sufTer  nr»  more  than  a  rich   one/  he 


22  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

replied  suavely  as  he  stroked  the  cat.  *  Enjoy 
that  satisfaction,  M.  de  Berault.       Is  that  all  ? ' 

'  Once  I  was  of  service  to  your  Eminence,'  I 
said  desperately. 

'  Payment  has  been  made,'  he  answered,  '  more 
than  once.  But  for  that  I  should  not  have  seen 
you.' 

•  The  King's  face ! '  I  cried,  snatching  at  the 
straw  he  seemed  to  hold  out. 

He  laughed  cynically,  smoothly.  His  thin  face, 
his  dark  moustache,  and  whitening  hair,  gave  him 
an  air  of  indescribable  keenness. 

'  I  am  not  the  King,'  he  said.  *  Besides,  I  am 
told  that  you  have  killed  as  many  as  six  men  in 
duels.  You  owe  the  King,  therefore,  one  life  at 
least.  You  must  pay  it.  There  is  no  more  to  be 
said,  M.  de  Berault,'  he  continued  coldly,  turning 
away  and  beginning  to  collect  some  papers.  '  The 
law  must  take  its  course.' 

I  thought  that  he  was  about  to  nod  to  the 
lieutenant  to  withdraw  me,  and  a  chilling  sweat 
broke  out  down  my  back.  I  saw  the  scaffold,  I 
felt  the  cords.     A  moment,  and  it  would  be  too  late  ! 


AT  ZATON'S 


^3 


'  I  have  a  favour  to  ask,'  I  stammered  desper- 
ately, '  if  your  Eminence  will  give  me  a  moment 
alone.' 

'  To  what  end  ? '  he  answered,  turning  and 
eyeing  me  with  cold  disfavour.  '  I  know  you — 
your  past— all.     It  can  do  no  good,  my  friend.' 

'  No  harm  ! '  I  cried.  '  And  I  am  a  dying  man, 
Monseigneur ! ' 

'That  is  true,'  he  said  thoughtfully.  Still  he 
seemed  to  hesitate  ;  and  my  heart  beat  fast.  At 
last  he  looked  at  the  lieutenant.  '  You  may  leave 
us,'  he  said  shortly.  'Now,'  he  continued,  when 
the  officer  had  withdrawn  and  left  us  alone, 
'  What  is  it  ?  Say  what  you  have  to  say  quickly. 
And,  above  all,  do  not  try  to  fool  me,  M.  de 
Berault' 

But  his  piercing  eyes  so  disconcerted  me  now 
that  I  had  my  chance,  and  was  alone  with  him, 
that  I  could  not  find  a  word  to  say,  and  stood 
before  him  mute.  I  think  this  pleased  him,  for 
his  face  relaxed. 

'  Well  ? '  he  said  at  last.     '  Is  that  all  ? ' 

'  The  man  is  not  dead,'  I  muttered. 


24  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously. 

'  What  of  that  ?  *  he  said.  '  That  was  not  what 
you  wanted  to  say  to  me.' 

*  Once  I  saved  your  Eminence's  life,'  I  faltered 
miserably. 

'  Admitted/  he  answered,  in  his  thin,  incisive 
voice.  '  You  mentioned  the  fact  before.  On  the 
other  hand,  you  have  taken  six  to  my  knowledge, 
M.  de  Berault.  You  have  lived  the  life  of  a  bully, 
a  common  bravo,  a  gamester.  You,  a  man  of 
family !  For  shame !  Do  you  wonder  that  it 
has  brought  you  to  this  ?  Yet  on  that  one  point 
I  am  willing  to  hear  more,'  he  added  abruptly. 

'  I  might  save  your  Eminence's  life  again,'  I 
cried.     It  was  a  sudden  inspiration. 

'  You  know  something  ? '  he  said  quickly,  fix- 
ing me  with  his  eyes.  'But  no,'  he  continued, 
shaking  his  head  gently.  '  Pshaw  1  The  trick 
is  old.  1  have  better  spies  than  you,  M.  de 
Berault' 

'  But  no  better  sword,'  I  cried  hoarsely.  '  No, 
not  in  all  your  guard  ! ' 

'That  is  true,'  he  said  slowly.      'That  is  true. 


AT  ZATON'S  as 

To  my  surprise,  he  spoke  in  a  tone  of  considera- 
tion ;  and  he  looked  down  at  the  floor.  '  Let 
me  think,  my  friend,'  he  continued. 

He  walked  two  or  three  times  up  and  down 
the  room,  while  I  stood  trembling.  I  confess  it, 
trembling.  The  man  whose  pulses  danger  has  no 
power  to  quicken,  is  seldom  proof  against  suspense; 
and  the  sudden  hope  his  words  awakened  in  me  so 
shook  me  that  his  figure  as  he  trod  lightly  to  and 
fro  with  the  cat  rubbing  against  his  robe  and  turn- 
ing time  for  time  with  him,  wavered  before  my 
eyes.  I  grasped  the  table  to  steady  myself.  I 
had  not  admitted  even  in  my  own  mind  how 
darkly  the  shadow  of  Montfaucon  and  the  gallows 
had  fallen  across  me. 

I  had  leisure  to  recover  myself,  for  it  was 
some  time  before  he  spoke.  When  he  did,  it 
was  in  a  voice  harsh,  changed,  imperative.  '  You 
have  the  reputation  of  a  man  faithful,  at  least, 
to  his  employer,'  he  said.  '  Do  not  ansv/er  me. 
I  say  it  is  so.  Well,  I  will  trust  you.  I  vail 
give  you  one  more  chance — though  it  is  a 
desperate  one.     Woe  to  you  if  you  fail  me !     Do 


26  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

you  know  Cocheforet  in  B6arn  ?  It  is  not  far 
from  Auch.' 

'  No,  your  Eminence.' 

'  Nor  M.  de  Cocheforet  ?  ' 

'  No,  your  Eminence.' 

'So  much  the  better,'  he  replied  'But  you 
have  heard  of  him.  He  has  been  engaged  in 
every  Gascon  plot  since  the  late  King's  death, 
and  gave  more  trouble  last  year  in  the  Vivarais 
than  any  man  twice  his  years.  At  present  he 
is  at  Bosost  in  Spain,  with  other  refugees,  but  I 
have  learned  that  at  frequent  intervals  he  visits 
his  wife  at  Cocheforet,  which  is  six  leagues  with- 
in the  border.  On  one  of  these  visits  he  must 
be  arrested.' 

'  That  should  be  easy,'  1  said. 

The  Cardinal  looked  at  me.  *  Chut,  man  !  what 
do  you  know  about  it?'  he  answered  bluntly. 
'  It  is  whispered  at  Cocheforet  if  a  soldier 
crosses  the  street  at  Auch.  In  the  house  are 
only  two  or  three  servants,  but  they  have  the 
countryside  with  them  to  a  man,  and  they  are  a 
dangerous   breed.     A  spark  might   kindle  a  fresh 


AT  Z AXON'S  »7 

rising.       The    arrest,    therefore,    must    be    made 
secretly.' 

I  bowed. 

'One  resolute  man  inside  the  house,'  the  Car- 
dinal continued,  thoughtfully  glancing  at  a  paper 
which  lay  on  the  table,  'with  the  help  of  two  or 
three  servants  whom  he  could  summon  to  his  aid 
at  will,  might  effect  it.  The  question  is,  Will 
you  be  the  man,  my  friend?' 

I  hesitated  ;  then  I  bowed.     What  choice  had  I  ? 

'  Nay,  nay,  speak  out ! '  he  said  sharply.  '  Yes 
or  no,  M.  de  Berault  ? ' 

'  Yes,  your  Eminence,'  I  said  reluctantly.  Again, 
I  say,  what  choice  had  I  ? 

'You  will  bring  him  to  Paris,  and  alive.  He 
knows  things,  and  that  is  why  I  want  him.  You 
understand  ? ' 

'  I  understand,  Monseigneur,'  I  answered. 

'  You  will  get  into  the  house  as  you  can,'  he 
continued  with  energy.  *  For  that  you  will  need 
strategy,  and  good  strategy.  They  suspect  every- 
body. You  must  deceive  them.  If  you  fail  to 
deceive  them,  or,  deceiving  them,   are  found    out 


«8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

later,  I  do  not  think  that  you  will  trouble  me 
again,  or  break  the  edict  a  second  time.  On  the 
other  hand,  should  you  deceive  me' — he  smiled 
still  more  subtly,  but  his  voice  sank  to  a  purring 
note — 'I  will  break  you  on  the  wheel  like  the 
ruined  gamester  you  are ! ' 

I  met  his  look  without  quailing.  'So  be  it ! ' 
I  said,  recklessly.  '  If  I  do  not  bring  M.  de 
Cocheforet  to  Paris,  you  may  do  that  to  me,  and 
more  also ! ' 

'  It  is  a  bargain  ! '  he  answered  slowly.  '  I  think 
that  you  will  be  faithful.  For  money,  here  are  a 
hundred  crowns.  That  sum  should  suffice;  but  if 
you  succeed  you  shall  have  twice  as  much  more. 
That  is  all,  I  think.     You  understand?' 

'Yes,  Monseigneur.' 

'  Then  why  do  you  wait  ? ' 

'The  lieutenant?'  I  said  modestly. 

The  Cardinal    laughed   to   himself,   and    sitting 

down  wrote   a  word   or   two  on  a  slip  of  paper. 

'Give   him   that,'   lie   said   in   high   good-humour. 

I   fear,  M.  dc   Bcrault,  you   will    never   get  your 

deserts — in  this  world  ! ' 


CHAPTER    II 

AT     THE     GREEN     PILLAR 

/^OCHEFORET  lies  in  a  billowy  land  of  oak 
and  beech  and  chestnuts — a  land  of  deep, 
leafy  bottoms  and  hills  clothed  with  forest 
Ridge  and  valley,  glen  and  knoll,  the  woodland, 
sparsely  peopled  and  more  sparsely  tilled, 
stretches  away  to  the  great  snow  mountains  that 
here  limit  France.  It  swarms  with  game — with 
wolves  and  bears,  deer  and  boars.  To  the  end 
of  his  life  I  have  heard  that  the  great  king 
loved  this  district,  and  would  sigh,  when  years 
and  State  fell  heavily  on  him,  for  the  beech 
groves  and  box-covered  hills  of  South  Beam. 
From  the  terraced  steps  of  Auch  you  can  see 
the  forest  roll  away  in  light  and  shadow,  vale 
and  upland,  to  the  base  of  the  snow  peaks ;  and, 
though  I  com.e  from  Brittany  and  love  the  smell 

29 


30  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

of  the  salt  wind,  I  have  seen  few  sights  that  out- 
do this. 

It  was  the  second  week  of  October,  when  I 
came  to  Cocheforet,  and,  dropping  down  from  the 
last  wooded  brow,  rode  quietly  into  the  place 
at  evening.  I  was  alone,  and  had  ridden  all 
day  in  a  glory  of  ruddy  beech  leaves,  through 
the  silence  of  forest  roads,  across  clear  brooks 
and  glades  still  green.  I  had  seen  more  of  the 
quiet  and  peace  of  the  country  than  had  been  my 
share  since  boyhood,  and  for  that  reason,  or  be- 
cause I  had  no  great  taste  for  the  task  before  me — 
the  task  now  so  imminent — I  felt  a  little  hipped. 
In  good  faith,  it  was  not  a  gentleman's  work  that 
I  was  come  to  do,  look  at  it  how  you  might. 

But  beggars  must  not  be  choosers,  and  I 
knew  that  this  feeling  would  not  last.  At  the 
inn,  in  the  presence  of  others,  under  the  spur 
of  necessity,  or  in  the  excitement  of  the  chase, 
were  that  once  begun,  I  should  lose  the  feeling. 
When  a  man  is  young  he  seeks  solitude,  when 
he  is  middle-aged,  he  flies  it  and  his  thoughts. 
I    made   therefore   for  the  '  Green   Pillar,'  a  little 


a 
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14 


Q 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  31 

inn  in  the  village  street,  to  which  I  had  been 
directed  at  Auch,  and,  thundering  on  the  door 
with  the  knob  of  my  riding  switch,  railed  at 
the  man  for  keeping  me  waiting. 

Here  and  there  at  hovel  doors  in  the  street — 
which  was  a  mean,  poor  place,  not  worthy  of 
the  name — men  and  women  looked  out  at  me 
suspiciously.  But  I  aftected  to  ignore  them ; 
and  at  last  the  host  came.  He  was  a  fair-haired 
man,  half-Basque,  half-Frenchman,  and  had  scanned 
me  well,  I  was  sure,  through  some  window  or 
peephole  ;  for  when  he  came  out  he  betrayed 
no  surprise  at  the  sight  of  a  well-dressed  stranger 
— a  portent  in  that  out-of-the-way  village — but 
eyed  me  with  a  kind  of  sullen  reserve. 

'  I  can  lie  here  to-night,  I  suppose  ? '  I  said, 
dropping  the  reins  on  the  sorrel's  neck.  The 
horse  hung  its  head. 

'  I  don't  know,'  he  answered  stupidly. 

I  pointed  to  the  green  bough  which  topped  a 
post  that  stood  opposite  the  door. 

'  This  is  an  inn,  is  it  not  ? '  I  said. 

'Yes,'  he  answered  slowly.    '  It  is  an  inn.    But — ' 


32  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  But  you  are  full,  or  you  are  out  of  food,  or 
your  wife  is  ill,  or  something  else  is  amiss,'  I 
answered  peevishly.  'All  the  same,  I  am  going 
to  lie  here.  So  you  must  make  the  best  of  it,  and 
your  wife  too — if  you  have  one.* 

He  scratched  his  head,  looking  at  me  with  an 
ugly  glitter  in  his  eyes.  But  he  said  nothing,  and 
I  dismounted. 

*  Where  can  I  stable  my  horse  ? '  I  asked. 

'  I'll  put  it  up,'  he  answered  sullenly,  stepping 
forward  and  taking  the  reins  in  his  hand. 

'Very  well,'  I  said.  'But  I  go  with  you.  A 
merciful  man  is  merciful  to  his  beast,  and  where- 
cver  I  go  I  see  my  horse  fed.' 

'  It  will  be  fed,'  he  said  shortly.  And  then 
he  waited  for  me  to  go  into  the  house.  'The 
wife  is  in  there,'  he  continued,  looking  at  me 
stubbornly. 

'  Imprimis  —  if  you  understand  Latin,  my 
friend,'  I  answered  ;    '  the  horse  in  the  stall.' 

He  saw  that  it  was  no  good,  turned  the  sorrel 
slowly  round,  and  began  to  lead  it  across  the  village 
street     There  was  a  shed  behind  the  inn,  which 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  33 

I  had  already  marked,  and  taken  for  the  stable. 
I  was  surprised  when  I  found  that  he  was  not 
going  there,  but  I  made  no  remark,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  saw  the  horse  made  comfortable  in 
a  hovel  which  seemed  to  belong  to  a  neighbour. 

This  done,  the  man  led  the  way  back  to  the 
inn,  carrying  my  valise. 

*  You  have  no  other  guests  ? '  I  said,  with  a 
casual  air,  I  knew  that  he  was  watching  me 
closely. 

'  No,'  he  answered. 

'This  is  not  much  in  the  way  to  anywhere,  I 
suppose  ? ' 

'No.' 

That  was  so  evident,  that  I  never  saw  a  more 
retired  place.  The  hanging  woods,  rising  steeply 
to  a  great  height,  so  shut  the  valley  in  that  I 
was  puzzled  to  think  how  a  man  could  leave  it 
save  by  the  road  I  had  come.  The  cottages, 
which  were  no  more  than  mean,  small  huts,  ran 
in  a  straggling  double  line,  with  many  gaps — 
through  fallen  trees  and  ill-cleared  meadows. 
Among   them    a    noisy   brook    ran    in    and    out. 


34  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

And  the  inhabitants — charcoal-burners,  or  swine- 
herds, or  poor  devils  of  the  like  class,  were  no 
better  than  their  dwellings.  I  looked  in  vain 
for  the  Chateau.  It  was  not  to  be  seen,  and  I 
dared  not  ask  for  it. 

The  man  led  me  into  the  common  room  of 
the  tavern — a  low-roofed,  poor  place,  lacking  a 
chimney  or  glazed  windows,  and  grimy  with 
smoke  and  use.  The  fire — a  great  half-burned 
tree — smouldered  on  a  stone  hearth,  raised  a  foot 
from  the  floor.  A  huge  black  pot  simmered  over 
it,  and  beside  one  window  lounged  a  country 
fellow  •  talking  with  the  goodwife.  In  the  dusk 
I  could  not  see  his  face,  but  I  gave  the  woman 
a  word,  and  sat  down  to  wait  for  my  supper. 

She  seemed  more  silent  than  the  common  run  of 
her  kind  ;  but  this  might  be  because  her  husband 
was  present.  While  she  moved  about,  getting  my 
meal,  he  took  his  place  against  the  door-post  and 
fell  to  staring  at  me  so  persistently  that  I  felt 
by  no  means  at  my  ease.  He  was  a  tall,  strong 
fellow,  with  a  shaggy  moustache  and  brown 
beard,  cut   in   the   mode   Henri  Quatre ;   and  on 


AT  THE  GK.EEN  PILLAR  35 

the  subject  of  that  king — a  safe  one,  I  knew, 
with  a  B^arnais — and  on  that  alone,  I  found  it 
possible  to  make  him  talk.  Even  then  there  was 
a  suspicious  gleam  in  his  eyes  that  bade  me 
abstain  from  questions  ;  so  that  as  the  darkness 
deepened  behind  him,  and  the  firelight  played 
more  and  more  strongly  on  his  features,  and  I 
thought  of  the  leagues  of  woodland  that  lay 
between  this  remote  valley  and  Auch,  I  recalled 
the  Cardinal's  warning  that  if  I  failed  in  my 
attempt  I  should  be  little  likely  to  trouble  Paris 


agam. 


The  lout  by  the  window  paid  no  attention  to 
me ;  nor  I  to  him,  when  I  had  once  satisfied 
myself  that  he  was  really  what  he  seemed  to  be. 
But  by-and-by  two  or  three  men — rough,  uncouth 
fellows — dropped  in  to  reinforce  the  landlord,  and 
they,  too,  seemed  to  have  no  other  business  than 
to  sit  in  silence  looking  at  me,  or  now  and  again 
to  exchange  a  word  in  a  patois  of  their  own. 
By  the  time  my  supper  was  ready,  the  knaves 
numbered  six  in  all ;  and,  as  they  were  armed 
to  a  man  with   huge    Spanish    knives,  and   made 


3b  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

it  clear  that  they  resented  my  presence  in  their 
dull  rustic  fashion — every  rustic  is  suspicious — I 
began  to  think  that,  unwittingly,  I  had  put  my 
head  into  a  wasps'  nest. 

Nevertheless,  I  ate  and  drank  with  apparent 
appetite  ;  but  little  that  passed  within  the  circle 
of  light  cast  by  the  smoky  lamp  escaped  me. 
I  watched  the  men's  looks  and  gestures  at  least 
as  sharply  as  they  watched  mine ;  and  all  the 
time  I  was  racking  my  wits  for  some  mode  of 
disarming  their  suspicions,  or  failing  that,  of 
learning  something  more  of  the  position,  which 
far  exceeded  in  difficulty  and  danger  anything 
that  I  had  expected.  The  whole  valley,  it 
would  seem,  was  on  the  look-out  to  protect  my 
man  ! 

I  had  purposely  brought  with  me  from  Auch 
a  couple  of  bottles  of  choice  Armagnac ;  and 
these  had  been  carried  into  the  house  with  my 
saddle  bags.  I  took  one  out  now  and  opened 
it  and  carelessly  offered  a  dram  of  the  spirit  to 
the  landlord.  He  took  it.  As  he  drank  it,  I 
saw  his  face  flush ;    he  handed  back  the  cup  re- 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  37 

luctantly,  and  on  that  hint  I  offered  him  an- 
other. The  strong  spirit  was  already  beginning 
to  work,  and  he  accepted,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
began  to  talk  more  freely  and  with  less  of 
the  constraint  which  had  before  marked  us  all. 
Still,  his  tongue  ran  chiefly  on  questions  —  he 
would  know  this,  he  would  learn  that ;  but  even 
this  was  a  welcome  change.  I  told  him  openly 
whence  I  had  come,  by  what  road,  how  long  I 
had  stayed  in  Auch,  and  where ;  and  so  far  I 
satisfied  his  curiosity.  Only,  when  I  came  to 
the  subject  of  my  visit  to  Cocheforet  I  kept  a 
mysterious  silence,  hinting  darkly  at  business  in 
Spain  and  friends  across  the  border,  and  this 
and  that  ;  in  this  way  giving  the  peasants  to 
understand,  if  they  pleased,  that  I  was  in  the 
same  interest  as  their  exiled  master. 

They  took  the  bait,  winked  at  one  another, 
and  began  to  look  at  me  in  a  more  friendly 
way — the  landlord  foremost.  But  when  I  had 
led  them  so  far,  I  dared  go  no  farther,  lest  I 
should  commit  myself  and  be  found  out.  I 
stopped,  therefore,  and,  harking  back  to  general 


38  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBK 

subjects,  chanced  to  compare  my  province  with 
theirs.  The  landlord,  now  become  almost  talka- 
tive, was  not  slow  to  take  up  this  challenge ; 
and  it  presently  led  to  my  acquiring  a  curious 
piece  of  knowledge.  He  was  boasting  of  his 
great  snow  mountains,  the  forests  that  propped 
them,  the  bears  that  roamed  in  them,  the  izards 
that  loved  the  ice,  and  the  boars  that  fed  on 
the  oak  mast. 

'  Well,'  I  said,  quite  by  chance,  '  we  have  not 
these  things,  it  is  true.  But  we  have  things  in 
the  north  you  have  not.  We  have  tens  of 
thousands  of  good  horses — not  such  ponies  as 
you  breed  here.  At  the  horse  fair  at  Fecamp 
my  sorrel  would  be  lost  in  the  crowd.  Here  in 
the  south  you  will  not  meet  his  match  in  a 
long  day's  journey.* 

'  Do  not  make  too  sure  of  that,'  the  man  re- 
plied, his  eyes  bright  with  triumph  and  the 
dram.  '  What  would  you  say  if  I  showed  you 
a  better — in  my  own  stable?' 

I  saw  that  his  words  sent  a  kind  of  thrill 
through  his  other  hearers,  and  that  such  of  them 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  39 

as  understood — for  two  or  three  of  them  talked 
their  patois  only — looked  at  him  angrily ;  and 
in  a  twinkling  I  began  to  comprehend.  But  I 
affected  dulness,  and  laughed  in  scorn. 

'  Seeing  is  believing,'  I  said.  '  I  doubt  if  you 
know  a  good  horse  when  you  see  one,  my 
friend.' 

'  Oh,  don't  I  ? '  he  said,  winking,     *  Indeed  ! ' 

'  I  doubt  it,'  I  answered  stubbornly. 

'  Then  come  with  me,  and  I  will  show  you 
one,'  he  retorted,  discretion  giving  way  to  vain- 
glory. His  wife  and  the  others,  I  saw,  la:,ked 
at  him  dumbfounded  ;  but,  without  paying  any 
heed  to  them,  he  rose,  took  up  a  lanthorn,  and, 
assuming  an  air  of  peculiar  wisdom,  opened  the 
door.  *  Come  with  me,'  he  continued.  *  I  don't 
know  a  good  horse  when  I  see  one,  don't  I  ?  i 
know  a  better  than  yours,  at  anyrate ! ' 

I  should  not  have  been  surprised  if  the  other 
men  had  interfered  ;  but  I  suppose  he  was  a 
leader  among  them,  they  did  not,  and  in  a 
moment  we  were  outside.  Three  paces  through 
the  darkness  took  us  to  the  stable,  an  offset  at 


40  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

the  back  of  the  inn.  My  man  twirled  the  pin, 
and,  leading  the  way  in,  raised  his  lanthorn,  A 
horse  whinnied  softly,  and  turned  its  bright,  mild 
eyes  on  us — a  baldfaced  chestnut,  with  white 
hairs  in  its  tail  and  one  white  stocking. 

'  There  !  '  my  guide  exclaimed,  n'aving  the 
lanthorn  to  and  fro  boastfully,  that  I  might  see 
its  points.  '  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  Is  that 
an  undersized  pony  ?  ' 

*  No,'  I  answered,  purposely  stinting  my  praise. 
*  It  is  pretty  fair — for  this  country.' 

'  Or  any  country,'  he  answered  wrathfully. 
'  Or  any  country,  I  say — I  don't  care  where  it 
is !  And  I  have  reason  to  know  I  Why,  man, 
that  horse  is —  But  there,  that  is  a  good  horse, 
if  ever  you  saw  one  ! '  And  with  that  he 
ended — abruptly  and  lamely;  lowered  the  lant- 
horn with  a  sudden  gesture,  and  turned  to  the 
door.  He  was  on  the  instant  in  such  hurry 
to  leave  that  he  almost  shouldered  me  out. 

But  I  understood.  I  knew  that  he  had  nearly 
betrayed  all — that  he  had  been  on  the  point  of 
blurting   out    that    that    was    M.    de    Cocheforet's 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  41 

horse !  M.  Cocheforet's  comprenez  bicn !  And 
while  I  turned  away  my  face  in  the  darkness^ 
that  he  might  not  see  me  smile,  I  was  not  sur- 
prised to  find  the  man  in  a  moment  changed, 
and  become,  in  the  closing  of  the  door,  as  sober 
and  suspicious  as  before,  ashamed  of  himself  and 
enraged  with  me,  and  in  a  mood  to  cut  my 
throat  for  a  trifle. 

It  was  not  my  cue  to  quarrel,  however.  I 
made  therefore,  as  if  I  had  seen  nothing,  and 
when  we  were  back  in  the  inn  praised  the  horse 
grudgingly,  and  like  a  man  but  half  convinced. 
The  ugly  looks  and  ugly  weapons  I  saw  round 
me  were  fine  incentives  to  caution  ;  and  no 
Italian,  I  flatter  myself,  could  have  played  his 
part  more  nicely  than  I  did.  But  I  was  heartily 
glad  when  it  was  over,  and  I  found  myself,  at 
last,  left  alone  for  the  night  in  a  little  garret — 
a  mere  fowl-house  —  upstairs,  formed  by  the 
roof  and  gable  walls,  and  hung  with  strings  of 
apples  and  chestnuts.  It  was  a  poor  sleeping- 
place — rough,  chilly,  and  unclean.  I  ascended 
to   it   by   a  ladder ;    my   cloak   and  a  little   fern 


42  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

formed  my  only  bed.  But  I  was  glad  to  accept 
it,  for  it  enabled  me  to  be  alone  and  to  think 
out  the  position  unwatched. 

Of  course  M.  de  Cocheforet  was  at  the  Chateau. 
He  had  left  his  horse  here,  and  gone  up  on 
foot ;  probably  that  was  his  usual  plan.  He 
was  therefore  within  my  reach,  in  one  sense 
—  I  could  not  have  come  at  a  better  time — 
but  in  another  he  was  as  much  beyond  it  as 
if  I  were  still  in  Paris.  For  so  far  was  I  from 
being  able  to  seize  him  that  I  dared  not  ask 
a  question,  or  let  fall  a  rash  word,  or  even 
look  about  me  freely.  I  saw  I  dared  not 
The  slightest  hint  of  my  mission,  the  faintest 
breath  of  distrust,  would  lead  to  throat-cutting 
— and  the  throat  would  be  mine ;  while  the 
longer  I  lay  in  the  village,  the  greater  sus- 
picion I  should  incur,  and  the  closer  v/ould  be 
the  watch  kept  upon  me. 

In  such  a  position  some  men  might  have 
given  up  the  attempt  in  despair,  and  saved  them- 
selves across  the  border.  But  1  have  always 
valued    myself    on    my    fidelity,   and    I    did    no< 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  43 

shrink.  If  not  to-day,  to-morrow;  if  not  this 
time,  next  time.  The  dice  do  not  always 
turn  up  aces.  Bracing  myself,  therefore,  to  the 
occasion,  I  crept,  as  soon  as  the  house  was 
quiet,  to  the  window,  a  small,  square,  open 
lattice,  much  cobwebbed,  and  partly  stuffed 
with  hay.  I  looked  out.  The  village  seemed 
to  be  asleep.  The  dark  branches  of  trees 
hung  a  few  feet  away,  and  almost  obscured  a 
grey,  cloudy  sky,  through  which  a  wet  moon 
sailed  drearily.  Looking  downwards,  I  could 
at  first  see  nothing  ;  but  as  my  eyes  grew  used 
to  the  darkness  —  I  had  only  just  put  out  my 
rushlight  —  I  made  out  the  stable  door  and 
the  shadowy  outlines  of  the  lean-to  roof. 

I  had  hoped  for  this,  for  I  could  now  keep 
watch,  and  learn  at  least  whether  Cocheforet 
left  before  morning.  If  he  did  not,  I  should 
know  he  was  still  here.  If  he  did,  I  should 
be  the  better  for  seeing  his  features,  and  learn- 
ing, perhaps,  other  things  that  might  be  of  use 
to  me  in  the  future. 

Making    up    my   mind    to    the    uncomfortable, 


44  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  sat  down  on  the  floor  by  the  lattice,  and 
began  a  vigil  that  might  last,  I  knew,  until 
morning.  It  did  last  about  an  hour,  at  the 
end  of  which  time  I  heard  whispering  below, 
then  footsteps ;  then,  as  some  persons  turned  a 
corner,  a  voice  speaking  aloud  and  carelessly. 
I  could  not  catch  the  words  or  meaning, 
but  the  voice  was  a  gentleman's,  and  its  bold 
accents  and  masterful  tone  left  me  in  no  doubt 
that  the  speaker  was  M.  de  Cocheforet  himself. 
Hoping  to  learn  more,  I  pressed  my  face 
nearer  to  the  opening,  and  had  just  made 
out  through  the  gloom  two  figures — one  that 
of  a  tall,  slight  man,  wearing  a  cloak,  the 
other,  I  fancied,  a  woman's,  in  a  sheeny  white 
dress — when  a  thundering  rap  on  the  door  of 
my  garret  made  me  spring  back  a  yard  from 
the  lattice,  and  lie  down  hurriedly  on  my 
couch.     The   summons   was   repeated. 

'  Well  ? '  I  cried,  rising  on  my  elbow,  and 
cursing  the  untimely  interruption,  I  was  burning 
with  anxiety  to  see  more.  '  What  is  it  ?  What 
is  the  matter  ? ' 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  45 

The  trap-door  was  lifted  a  foot  or  more.  The 
landlord  thrust  up  his  head. 

'  You  called,  did  you  not  ? '  he  said. 

He  held  up  a  rushlight,  which  illumined 
half  the  room  and  lit  up  his  grinning 
face. 

•Called — at  this  hour  of  the  night,  you  fool?' 
I  answered  angrily.  '  No !  I  did  not  call.  Go 
to  bed,  man  ! ' 

But  he  remained  on  the  ladder,  gaping 
stupidly.     '  I  heard  you,'  he  said. 

'  Go  to  bed !  You  are  drunk,'  I  answered, 
sitting  up.     '  I  tell  you  I  did  not  call' 

'  Oh,  very  well,'  he  answered  slowly.  '  And 
you  do  not  want  anything?' 

'  Nothing — except  to  be  left  alone,'  I  replied 
sourly. 

'  Umph  ! '  he  said.     '  Good-night ! ' 

*  Good-night !  Good-night ! '  I  answered  with 
what  patience  I  might.  The  tramp  of  the 
horse's  hoofs  as  it  was  led  out  of  the  stable  was 
in  my  ears  at  the  moment.  '  Good-night ! '  I 
continued   feverishly,  hoping   that  he   would   still 


46  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

retire  in  time,  and  I  have  a  chance  to  look 
out      *  I  want  to  sleep.' 

'  Good,'  he  said,  with  a  broad  grin.  '  But  it  is 
early  yet,  and  you  have  plenty  of  time.' 

And  then,  at  last,  he  slowly  let  down  the  trap- 
door, and  I  heard  him  chuckle  as  he  went  down 
the  ladder. 

Before  he  reached  the  bottom  I  was  at  the 
window.  The  woman,  whom  I  had  seen,  still 
stood  below  in  the  same  place,  and  beside  her 
was  a  man  in  a  peasant's  dress,  holding  a 
lanthorn.  But  the  man,  the  man  I  wanted  to 
see,  was  no  longer  there.  He  was  gone,  and  it 
was  evident  that  the  others  no  longer  feared 
me  ;  for  while  I  gazed  the  landlord  came  out 
to  them  with  another  lanthorn  swinging  in  his 
hand,  and  said  something  to  the  lady,  and  she 
looked  up  at  my  window  and  laughed. 

It  was  a  warm,  night,  and  she  wore  nothing  over 
her  white  dress.  I  could  see  her  tall,  shapely 
figure  and  shining  eyes,  and  the  firm  contour  of 
her  beautiful  face,  which,  if  any  fault  might  be 
found  with  it,  erred  in   being  too   regular.       She 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  47 

looked  like  a  woman  formed  by  nature  to  meet 
dangers  and  difficulties,  and  to  play  a  great  part : 
even  here,  at  midnight,  in  the  midst  of  these 
desperate  men,  she  did  not  seem  out  of  place. 
I  could  fancy  —  I  did  not  find  it  impossible 
to  fancy — that  under  her  queenly  exterior,  and 
behind  the  contemptuous  laugh  with  which  she 
heard  the  landlord's  story,  there  lurked  a  woman's 
soul,  a  soul  capable  of  folly  and  tenderness.  But 
no  outward  sign  betrayed  its  presence — as  I  saw 
her  then. 

I  scanned  her  very  carefully ;  and  secretly,  if  the 
truth  be  told,  I  was  glad  to  find  that  Madame  do 
Cocheforet  was  such  a  woman.  I  was  glad  that  she 
had  laughed  as  she  had — with  a  ring  of  disdain 
and  defiance;  glad  that  she  was  not  a  little,  tender, 
child-like  woman,  to  be  crushed  by  the  first  pinch 
of  trouble.  For  if  I  succeeded  in  my  task,  if  I 
contrived  to — but,  pish !  Women,  I  told  myself, 
were  all  alike.  She  would  find  consolation  quickly 
enough. 

I  watched  until  the  group  broke  up,  and 
Madame,   with   one   of  the    men,  went   her  way 


48  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

round  the  corner  of  the  inn,  and  out  of  my  sight 
Then  I  retired  to  bed  again,  feeling  more  than 
ever  perplexed  what  course  I  should  adopt  It 
was  clear  that  to  succeed  I  must  obtain  admission 
to  the  house,  which  was  garrisoned,  according  to 
my  instructions,  by  two  or  three  old  men-servants 
only,  and  as  many  women  ;  since  Madame,  to  dis- 
guise her  husband's  visits  the  more  easily,  lived, 
and  gave  out  that  she  lived,  in  great  retirement 
To  seize  her  husband  at  home,  therefore,  might  be 
no  impossible  task  ;  though  here,  in  the  heart  of 
the  village,  a  troop  of  horse  might  make  the 
attempt,  and  fail. 

But  how  was  1  to  gain  admission  to  the  house 
— a  house  guarded  by  quick-witted  women,  and 
fenced  with  all  the  precautions  love  could 
devise  ?  That  was  the  question  ;  and  dawn  found 
me  still  debating  it,  still  as  far  as  ever  from  an 
answer.  Anxious  and  feverish,  I  was  glad  when 
the  light  came,  and  I  could  get  up.  I  thought 
that  the  fresh  air  might  inspire  me,  and  I  was 
tired  of  my  stuffy  closet  I  crept  stealthily 
down  the  ladder,  and    managed    to    pass    unseen 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  49 

through  the  lower  room,  in  which  several 
persons  were  snoring  heavily.  The  outer  door 
was  not  fastened,  and  in  a  hand-turn  I  was  in 
the  street. 

It  was  still  so  early  that  the  trees  stood  up 
black  against  the  reddening  sky,  but  the  bough 
upon  the  post  before  the  door  was  growing  green, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  grey  light  would  be 
everywhere.  Already,  even  in  the  roadway,  there 
was  a  glimmering  of  it ;  and  as  I  stood  at  the 
corner  of  the  house — where  I  could  command  both 
the  front  and  the  side  on  which  the  stable  opened 
— sniffing  the  fresh  air,  and  looking  for  any  trace 
of  the  midnight  departure,  my  eyes  detected  some- 
thing light-coloured  lying  on  the  ground.  It 
was  not  more  than  two  or  three  paces  from  me, 
and  I  stepped  to  it  and  picked  it  up  curiously, 
hoping  that  it  might  be  a  note.  It  was  not  a 
note,  however,  but  a  tiny  orange-coloured  sachet 
such  as  women  carry  in  the  bosom.  It  was  full 
of  some  faintly-scented  powder,  and  bore  on  one 
side  the  initial  'E,'  worked  in  white  silk;  and  was 

altogether  a  dainty  little  toy,  such  as  women  love. 

D 


50  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

Doubtless  Madame  de  Cocheforet  had  dropped 
it  in  the  night.  I  turned  it  over  and  over ;  and 
then  I  put  it  in  my  pouch  with  a  smile,  thinking 
that  it  might  be  useful  sometime,  and  in  some 
way.  I  had  scarcely  done  this,  and  turned 
with  the  intention  of  exploring  the  street,  when 
the  door  behind  me  creaked  on  its  leather 
hinges,  and  in  a  moment  the  host  stood  at 
my  elbow,  and   gave  me  a  surly  greeting. 

Evidently  his  suspicions  were  again  aroused, 
for  from  this  time  he  managed  to  be  with  me, 
on  one  pretence  or  another,  until  noon.  More- 
over, his  manner  grew  each  moment  more  churl- 
ish, his  hints  plainer ;  until  I  could  scarcely, 
avoid  noticing  the  one  or  the  other.  About 
mid-day,  having  followed  me  for  the  twentieth 
time  into  the  street,  he  came  to  the  point  by 
asking  me  rudely  if  I  did   not    need   my  horse. 

•  No,'   I   said.     '  Why  do  you  ask  ?  ' 

'  Because,'  he  answered,  with  an  ugly  smile, 
'this  is  not  a  very  healthy  place  for  strangers.' 

'  Ah  !  •  I  retorted.  '  But  the  border  air  suits 
me,  you  see.' 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  51 

It  was  a  lucky  answer,  for,  taken  with  my  talk 
the  night  before,  it  puzzled  him,  by  suggesting 
that  I  was  on  the  losing  side,  and  had  my  reasons 
for  lying  near  Spain.  Before  he  had  done  scratch- 
ing his  head  over  it,  the  clatter  of  hoofs  broke 
the  sleepy  quiet  of  the  village  street,  and  the 
lady  I  had  seen  the  night  before  rode  quickly 
round  the  corner,  and  drew  her  horse  on  to  its 
haunches.  Without  looking  at  me,  she  called  to 
the  innkeeper  to  come  to  her  stirrup. 

He  went.  The  moment  his  back  was  turned, 
I  slipped  away,  and  in  a  twinkling  was  hidden 
by  a  house.  Two  or  three  glum-looking  fellows 
stared  at  me  as  I  passed  down  the  street,  but  no 
one  moved ;  and  in  two  minutes  I  was  clear  of 
the  village,  and  in  a  half- worn  track  which  ran 
through  the  wood,  and  led  —  if  my  ideas  were 
right  —  to  the  Chateau.  To  discover  the  house 
and  learn  all  that  was  to  be  learned  about  its 
situation  were  my  most  pressing  needs  ;  and 
these,  even  at  the  risk  of  a  knife  thrust,  I  was 
determined  to  satisfy. 

I  had  not  gone  two  hundred  paces  along  the 


52  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

path,  however,  before  I  heard  the  tread  of  a  horse 
behind  me,  and  I  had  just  time  to  hide  myself 
before  Madame  came  up  and  rode  by  me,  sitting 
her  horse  gracefully,  and  with  all  the  courage  of 
a  northern  woman.  I  watched  her  pass,  and  then, 
assured  by  her  presence  that  I  was  in  the  right 
road,  I  hurried  after  her.  Two  minutes'  walking 
at  speed  brought  me  to  a  light  wooden  bridge 
spanning  a  stream.  I  crossed  this,  and,  as  the 
wood  opened,  saw  before  me  first  a  wide,  pleas- 
ant meadow,  and  beyond  this  a  terrace.  On 
the  terrace,  pressed  upon  on  three  sides  by  thick 
woods,  stood  a  grey  mansion,  with  the  corner 
tourellcs,  steep,  high  roofs,  and  round  balconies, 
that  men  loved  and  built  in  the  days  of  the 
first  Francis. 

It  was  of  good  size,  but  wore  a  gloomy  aspect. 
A  great  yew  hedge,  which  seemed  to  enclose  a 
walk  or  bowling-green,  hid  the  ground  floor  of 
the  east  wing  from  view,  while  a  formal  rose 
garden,  stiff  even  in  neglect,  lay  in  front 
of  the  main  building.  The  west  wing, 
of   which    the    lower    roofs    fell    gradually    away 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  53 

to  the  woods,  probably  contained  the  stables 
and  granaries. 

I  stood  a  moment  only,  but  I  marked  all,  and 
noted  how  the  road  reached  the  house,  and 
which  windows  were  open  to  attack ;  then  I 
turned  and  hastened  back.  Fortunately,  I  met 
no  one  between  the  house  and  the  village,  and 
was  able  to  enter  my  host's  with  an  air  of  the 
most  complete  innocence. 

Short  as  had  been  my  absence,  however,  I 
found  things  altered  there.  Round  the  door 
lounged  three  strangers — stout,  well-armed  fel- 
lows, whose  bearing,  as  they  loitered  and  chat- 
tered, suggested  a  curious  mixture  of  smugness 
and  independence.  Half  a  dozen  pack-horses 
stood  tethered  to  the  post  in  front  of  the 
house ;  and  the  landlord's  manner,  from  being 
rude  and  churlish  only,  had  grown  perplexed 
and  almost  timid.  One  of  the  strangers,  I  soon 
found,  supplied  him  with  wine ;  the  others  were 
travelling  merchants,  who  rode  in  the  first  one's 
company  for  the  sake  of  safety.  All  were  sub- 
stantial men   from    Tarbes — solid  burgesses ;   and 


54  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  was  not  long  in  guessing  that  my  host, 
fearing  what  might  leak  out  before  them,  and, 
particularly,  that  I  might  refer  to  the  previous 
night's  disturbance,  was  on  tenter -hooks  while 
they  remained. 

For  a  time  this  did  not  suggest  anything  to 
me.  But  when  we  had  all  taken  our  seats  for 
supper,  there  came  an  addition  to  the  party. 
The  door  opened,  and  the  fellow  whom  I  had 
seen  the  night  before  with  Madame  de  Coche- 
foret,  entered  and  took  a  stool  by  the  fire.  I 
felt  sure  that  he  was  one  of  the  servants  at 
the  ChS.teau ;  and  in  a  flash  his  presence  inspired 
me  with  the  most  feasible  plan  for  obtaining 
admission  which  I  had  yet  hit  upon.  I  felt 
myself  grow  hot  at  the  thought — it  seemed 
so  full  of  promise,  yet  so  doubtful — and,  on  the 
instant,  without  giving  myself  time  to  think  too 
much,  I  began  to  carry  it  into  effect. 

I  called  for  two  or  three  bottles  of  better 
wine,  and,  assuming  a  jovial  air,  passed  it  round 
the  table.  When  we  had  drunk  a  few  glasses 
i    fell    to    talking,    and,   choosing    politics,   took 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR  55 

the  side  of  the  Languedoc  party  and  the  mal- 
contents in  so  reckless  a  fashion  that  the  inn- 
keeper was  beside  himself  at  my  imprudence. 
The  merchants,  who  belonged  to  the  class  with 
whom  the  Cardinal  was  always  most  popular, 
looked  first  astonished  and  then  enraged.  But 
I  was  not  to  be  checked  ;  hints  and  sour  looks 
v^ere  lost  upon  me.  I  grew  more  outspoken 
with  every  glass,  I  drank  to  the  Rochellois,  I 
swore  it  would  not  be  long  before  they  raised 
their  heads  again  ;  and,  at  last,  while  the  inn- 
keeper and  his  wife  were  engaged  lighting  the 
lamp,  I  passed  round  the  bottle  and  called  on 
all  for  a  toast 

*  I'll  give  you  one  to  begin,'  I  bragged  noisily. 
*  A  gentleman's  toast !  A  southern  toast !  Here 
is  confusion  to  the  Cardinal,  and  a  health  to  all 
v.'ho  hate  him  ! ' 

'  Mon  Dicu  /'  one  of  the  strangers  cried,  spring- 
ing from  his  seat  in  a  rage.  '  I  am  not  going 
to  stomach  that !  Is  your  house  a  common 
treason-hole,'  he  continued,  turning  furiously  on 
the   landlord,  *  that  you  suffer  this  ? ' 


S6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  Hoity-toity  ! '  I  answered,  coolly  keeping  my 
seat.  'What  is  all  this?  Don't  you  relish  my 
toast,  little  man  ? ' 

'  No — nor  you  ! '  he  retorted  hotly  ;  '  whoever 
you   may  be  ! ' 

'  Then  I  will  give  you  another,'  I  answered, 
with  a  hiccough.  '  Perhaps  it  will  be  more  to 
your  taste.  Here  is  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and 
may  he  soon  be  King  1 ' 


CHAPTER   III 

THE    HOUSE     IN     THE    WOOD 

"^T  7  0RDS  so  reckless  fairly  shook  the  three 
men  out  of  their  anger.  For  a  moment 
they  glared  at  me  as  if  they  had  seen  a  ghost. 
Then  the  wine  merchant  clapped  his  hand  on 
the  table. 

'  That  is  enough/  he  said,  with  a  look  at  his 
companions.  '  I  think  that  there  can  be  no 
mistake  about  that.  As  damnable  treason  as 
ever  I  heard  whispered !  I  congratulate  you,  sir, 
on  your  boldness.  As  for  you/  he  continued, 
turning  with   an   ugly   sneer   to   the   landlord,  '  I 

shall  know  now  the  company  you  keep  !     I  was 

57 


58  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

not  aware  that  my  wine  wet  whistles  to  such  a 
tune ! ' 

But  if  he  was  startled,  the  innkeeper  was  furious, 
seeing  his  character  thus  taken  away  ;  and,  being 
st  no  time  a  man  of  many  words,  he  vented  his 
rage  exactly  in  the  way  I  wished,  raising  in  a 
twinkling  such  an  uproar  as  can  scarcely  be 
conceived.  With  a  roar  like  a  bull's,  he  ran 
headlong  at  the  table,  and  overturned  it  on  the 
top  of  me.  Fortunately  the  woman  saved  the 
lamp,  and  fled  with  it  into  a  corner,  whence  she 
and  the  man  from  the  Chateau  watched  the 
skirmish  in  silence ;  but  the  pewter  cups  and 
platters  flew  spinning  across  the  floor,  while  the 
table  pinned  me  to  the  ground  among  the  ruins 
of  my  stool.  Having  me  at  this  disadvantage — 
for  at  first  I  made  no  resistance — the  landlord 
began  to  belabour  me  with  the  first  thing  he 
snatched  up,  and  when  I  tried  to  defend  myself, 
cursed  me  with  each  blow  for  a  treacherous  rogue 
and  a  vagrant.  Meanwhile  the  three  merchants, 
delighted  with  the  turn  things  had  taken,  skipped 
round   us  laughing,    and    now   hounded    him    on 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  59 

now  bantered  me  with  '  How  is  that  for  the  Duke 
of  Orleans  ?  '  and  '  How  now,  traitor  ? ' 

When  I  thought  that  this  had  lasted  long 
enough  —  or,  to  speak  more  plainly,  when  I 
could  stand  the  innkeeper's  drubbing  no  longer 
— I  threw  him  off,  and  struggled  to  my  feet ; 
but  still,  though  the  blood  was  trickling  down 
my  face,  1  refrained  from  drawing  my  sword.  I 
caught  up  instead  a  leg  of  the  stool  which  lay 
handy,  and,  watching  my  opportunity,  dealt  the 
landlord  a  shrewd  blow  under  the  ear,  which 
laid  him  out  in  a  moment  on  the  wreck  of  his 
own  table. 

'  Now,'  I  cried,  brandishing  my  new  weapon, 
which  fitted  the  hand  to  a  nicety,  '  come  on ! 
Come  on  !  if  you  dare  to  strike  a  blow,  you  ped- 
dling, truckling,  huckstering  knaves !  A  fig  for 
you  and  your  shaveling  Cardinal  ! ' 

The  red-faced  wine  merchant  drew  his  sword  In 
2  one-two. 

'  Why,  you  drunken  fool,'  he  said  wrathfully, 
'  put  that  stick  down,  or  I  will  spit  you  like  a  lark  ! ' 

'  Lark  in  your  teeth  ! '   I  cried,  staggering  as  if 


6o  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

the   wine   were   in  my  head.     'And  cuckoo,  too! 
Another  word,  and  I — ' 

He  made  a  couple  of  savage  passes  at  me,  but 
in  a  twinkh'ng  his  sword  flew  across  the  room. 

'Voild!'  I  shouted,  lurching  forward,  as  if  I  had 
luck  and  not  skill  to  thank  for  my  victory.  'Now, 
the  next !  Come  on,  come  on — you  white-livered 
knaves  ! '  And,  pretending  a  drunken  frenzy,  1 
flung  my  weapon  bodily  amongst  them,  and  seiz- 
ing the  nearest,  began  to  wrestle  with  him. 

In  a  moment  they  all  threw  themselves  upon 
me,  and,  swearing  copiously,  bore  me  back  to  the 
door.  The  wine  merchant  cried  breathlessly  to 
the  woman  to  open  it,  and  in  a  twinkling  they  had 
me  through  it,  and  half-way  across  the  road.  The 
one  thing  I  feared  was  a  knife-thrust  in  the  melee  ; 
but  I  had  to  run  that  risk,  and  the  men  were  honest, 
and,  thinking  me  drunk,  indulgent.  In  a  trice  I 
found  myself  on  my  back  in  the  dirt,  with  my 
head  humming ;  and  heard  the  bars  of  the  door 
fall  noisily  into  their  places. 

I  got  up  and  went  to  the  door,  and,  to  play  out 
my  part,  hammered  on  it  frantically  ;  crying  out 


THE  HOUSE    IN  THE  WOOD  6i 

to  them  to  let  me  in.  But  the  three  travellers 
only  jeered  at  me,  and  the  landlord,  coming  to  the 
window,  with  his  head  bleeding,  shook  his  fist  at 
me,  and  cursed  me  for  a  mischief-maker. 

Baffled  in  this,  I  retired  to  a  log  which  lay  in 
the  road  a  few  paces  from  the  house,  and  sat  down 
on  it  to  await  events.  With  torn  clothes  and 
bleeding  face,  hatless  and  covered  with  dirt,  I  was 
in  little  better  case  than  my  opponent.  It  was 
raining,  too,  and  the  dripping  branches  swayed 
over  my  head.  The  wind  was  in  the  south — the 
coldest  quarter.  I  began  to  feel  chilled  and  dis- 
pirited. If  niy  scheme  failed,  I  had  forfeited  roof 
and  bed  to  no  purpose,  and  placed  future  pro- 
gress out  of  the  question.  It  was  a  critical 
moment. 

But  at  last  that  happened  for  which  I  had  been 
looking.  The  door  swung  open  a  few  inches, 
and  a  man  came  noiselessly  out ;  it  was  quickly 
barred  behind  him.  He  stood  a  moment,  wait- 
ing on  the  threshold  and  peering  into  the  gloom ; 
and  seemed  to  expect  to  be  attacked.  Finding 
himself    unmolested,   however,  and    all   quiet,   he 


62  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

went  off  steadily   down    the   street — towards    the 
Chateau. 

I  let  a  couple  of  minutes  go  by,  and  then  1 
followed.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  hitting  on  the 
track  at  the  end  of  the  street,  but  when  I  had 
once  plunged  into  the  wood,  I  found  myself  in 
darkness  so  intense  that  I  soon  strayed  from  the 
path,  and  fell  over  roots,  and  tore  my  clothes 
with  thorns,  and  lost  my  temper  twenty  times 
before  I  found  the  path  again.  However,  I 
gained  the  bridge  at  last,  and  thence  caught 
sight  of  a  light  twinkling  before  me.  To  make 
for  it  across  the  meadow  and  terrace  was  an 
easy  task ;  yet,  when  I  had  reached  the  door 
and  had  hammered  upon  it,  I  was  so  worn  out, 
rind  in  so  sorry  a  plight  that  I  sank  down,  and 
had  little  need  to  play  a  part,  or  pretend  to 
be  worse  than  I  was. 

For  a  long  time  no  one  answered.  The  dark 
house  towering  above  me  remained  silent.  I 
could  hear,  minc^led  with  the  throbbings  of  my 
heart,  the  steady  croaking  of  the  frogs  in  a 
pond  near  the  stables  ;    but  no  other  sound.     In 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  63 

a  frenzy  of  impatience  and  disgust,  I  stood  up 
again  and  hammered,  kicking  with  my  heels  on 
the  nail  -  studded  door,  and  crying  out  desper- 
ately,— 

*A  moi !  A  mot!' 

Then,  or  a  moment  later,  I  heard  a  remote 
door  opened ;  footsteps  as  of  more  than  one 
person  drew  near,  i  raised  my  voice  and  cried 
again,— 

'A  moi!* 

*  Who  is  there  ? '  a  voice  asked, 

'  A  gentleman  in  distress,'  I  answered  piteously, 
moving  my  hands  across  the  door.  'For  God's 
sake  open  and  let  me  in.  I  am  hurt,  and  dying 
of  cold.' 

*  What  brings  you  here  ? '  the  voice  asked 
sharply.  Despite  its  tartness,  I  fancied  that  it 
was  a  woman's. 

'  Heaven  knows  ! '  I  answered  desperately.  '  i 
cannot  tell.  They  maltreated  me  at  the  inn, 
and  threw  me  into  the  street.  I  crawled  away, 
and  have  been  wandering  in  the  wood  for  hours. 
Then  I  saw  a  light  here.' 


64  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

Ou  that  some  muttering  took  place  on  the 
other  side  of  the  door — to  which  I  had  my  ear. 
It  ended  in  the  bars  being  lowered.  The  door 
swung  partly  open,  and  a  light  shone  out, 
dazzling  me.  I  tried  to  shade  my  eyes  with  my 
fingers,  and,  as  I  did  so,  fancied  I  heard  a 
murmur  of  pity.  But  when  I  looked  in  under 
screen  of  my  hand,  I  saw  only  one  person — the 
man  who  held  the  light,  and  his  aspect  was  so 
strange,  so  terrifying,  that,  shaken  as  I  was  by 
fatigue,  I  recoiled  a  step. 

He  was  a  tall  and  very  thin  man,  meanly 
dressed  in  a  short,  scanty  jacket  and  well- 
darned  hose.  Unable,  for  some  reason,  to  bend 
his  neck,  he  carried  his  head  with  a  strange 
stiffness. 

And  that  head — never  did  living  man  show 
a  face  so  like  death.  His  forehead  was  bald 
and  yellow,  his  cheek-bones  stood  out  under 
the  strained  skin,  all  the  lower  part  of  his  face 
fell  in,  his  jaws  receded,  his  checks  were  hollow, 
his  lips  and  chin  were  thin  and  flcshless.  He 
seemed  to  have  only  one  expression — a  fixed  grin. 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  65 

While  I  stood  looking  at  this  formidable  crea- 
ture, he  made  a  quick  movement  to  shut  the  door 
again,  smiling  more  widely.  I  had  the  presence  of 
mind  to  thrust  in  my  foot,  and,  before  he  could 
resent  the  act,  a  voice  in  the  background  cried, — 

'For  shame,  Clon !  Stand  back,  stand  back! 
do  you  hear?  I  am  afraid.  Monsieur,  that  you 
are  hurt.' 

Those  words  were  my  welcome  to  that  house ; 
and,  spoken  at  an  hour  and  in  circumstances  so 
gloomy,  they  made  a  lasting  impression.  Round 
the  hall  ran  a  gallery,  and  this,  the  height  of 
the  apartment,  and  the  dark  panelling  seemed  to 
swallow  up  the  light.  I  stood  within  the  en- 
trance (as  it  seemed  to  me)  of  a  huge  cave; 
the  skull-headed  porter  had  the  air  of  an  ogre 
Only  the  voice  which  greeted  me  dispelled  the 
illusion.  I  turned  trembling  towards  the  quarter 
whence  it  came,  and,  shading  my  eyes,  made 
out  a  woman's  form  standing  in  a  doorway 
under  the  gallery.  A  second  figure,  which  I 
took  to  be  that  of  the  servant  I  had  seen  at  the 
inn,  loomed  uncertainly  beside  her. 


E 


66  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

1  bowed  in  silence.  My  teeth  were  chatter- 
ing. I  was  faint  without  feigning,  and  felt  a 
kind  of  terror,  hard  to  explain,  at  the  sound 
of  this   w^oman's   voice. 

*  One  of  our  people  has  told  me  about  you,' 
she  continued,  speaking  out  of  the  darkness.  '  I 
am  sorry  that  this  has  happened  to  you  here, 
but  I  am  afraid  that  you  were  indiscreet' 

'  I  take  all  the  blame,  Madame,'  I  answered 
humbly.     '  I  ask  only  shelter  for  the  night' 

'  The  time  has  not  yet  come  when  we  cannot 
give  our  friends  that ! '  she  answered  with  noble 
courtesy.  '  When  it  does,  Monsieur,  we  shall  be 
homeless  ourselves.' 

I  shivered,  looking  anywhere  but  at  her  ;  for, 
if  the  truth  be  told,  I  had  not  sufficiently  pic- 
tured this  scene  of  my  arrival — I  had  not  fore- 
drawn  its  details ;  and  now  I  took  part  in  it  I 
felt  a  miserable  meanness  weigh  me  clown.  I 
had  never  from  the  first  liked  the  work,  but 
I  had  had  no  choice,  and  I  had  no  choice  now. 
Luckily,  the  guise  in  which  I  came,  my  fatigue, 
and  wound  were  a  sufficient   mask,  or   1    should 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  67 

have  incurred  suspicion  at  once.  For  I  am  sure 
that  if  ever  in  this  world  a  brave  man  wore  a 
hang-dog  air,  or  Gil  de  Berault  fell  below  him- 
self, it  was  then  and  there  —  on  Madame  de 
Cocheforet's  threshold,  with  her  welcome  sound- 
ing in  my  ears. 

One,  I  think,  did  suspect  me.  Clon,  the 
porter,  continued  to  hold  the  door  obstinately 
ajar  and  to  eye  me  with  grinning  spite,  until 
his  mistress,  with  some  sharpness,  bade  him 
drop  the  bars  and  conduct  me  to  a  room. 

'Do  you  go  also,  Louis,'  she  continued,  speak- 
ing to  the  man  beside  her,  '  and  see  this  gentle- 
man comfortably  disposed.  I  am  sorry,'  she 
added,  addressing  me  in  the  graceful  tone  she 
had  before  used,  and  I  thought  that  I  could  see 
her  head  bend  in  the  darkness,  *  that  our  present 
circumstances  do  not  permit  us  to  welcome  you 
more  fitly,  Monsieur.  But  the  troubles  of  the 
times — however,  you  will  excuse  what  is  lacking. 
Until  to-morrow,  I  have  the  honour  to  bid  you 
good-night 

*  Good-night,  Madame,'  I  stammered,  trembling. 


68  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  had  not  been  able  to  distinguish  her  face  in 
the  gloom  of  the  doorway,  but  her  voice,  her 
greeting,  her  presence  unmanned  me.  I  was 
troubled  and  perplexed ;  I  had  not  spirit  to 
kick  a  dog.  I  followed  the  two  servants  from 
the  hall  without  heeding  how  we  went ;  nor  was 
it  until  we  came  to  a  full  stop  at  a  door  in  a 
white-washed  corridor,  and  it  was  forced  upon 
me  that  something  was  in  question  between  my 
two  conductors  that  I  began  to  take  notice. 

Then  I  saw  that  one  of  them,  Louis,  wished 
to  lodge  me  here  where  we  stood.  The  porter, 
on  the  other  hand,  who  held  the  keys,  would 
not.  He  did  not  speak  a  word,  nor  did  the 
other — and  this  gave  a  queer  ominous  character 
to  the  debate ;  but  he  continued  to  jerk  his 
head  towards  the  farther  end  of  the  corridor ; 
and,  at  last,  he  carried  his  point.  Louis  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  moved  on,  glancing  askance 
at  me ;  and  I,  not  understanding  the  matter  in 
debate,  followed  the  pair  in  silence. 

We  reached  the  end  of  the  corridor,  and  there 
for  an  instant  the  monster  with  the  keys  paused 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  69 

and  grinned  at  me.  Then  he  turned  into  a 
narrow  passage  on  the  left,  and  after  following 
it  for  some  paces,  halted  before  a  small,  strong 
door.  His  key  jarred  in  the  lock,  but  he  forced 
it  shrieking  round,  and  with  a  savage  flourish 
threw  the  door  open. 

I  walked  in  and  saw  a  mean,  bare  chamber 
with  barred  windows.  The  floor  was  indifferently 
clean,  there  was  no  furniture.  The  yellow  light 
of  the  lanthorn  falling  on  the  stained  walls  gave 
the  place  the  look  of  a  dungeon.  I  turned  to 
the  two  men.  •  This  is  not  a  very  good  room,' 
I  said.  'And  it  feels  damp.  Have  you  no 
other  ? ' 

Louis  looked  doubtfully  at  his  companion.  But 
the  porter  shook  his  head  stubbornly. 

'  Why  does  he  not  speak  ? '  I  asked  with  im- 
patience. 

*  He  is  dumb,'  Louis  answered. 

'  Dumb ! '  I  exclaimed.     '  But  he  hears.* 

*  He  has  ears,'  the  servant  answered  drily.  '  But 
he  has  no  tongue,  Monsieur.' 

I  shuddered.     '  How  did  he  lose  it  ? '  I  asked. 


70  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  At  Rochelle.  He  was  a  spy,  and  the  king's 
people  took  him  the  day  the  town  surrendered. 
They  spared  his  life,  but  cut  out  his  tongue.' 

'  Ah ! '  I  said.  I  wished  to  say  more,  to  be 
natural,  to  show  myself  at  my  ease.  But  the 
porter's  eyes  seemed  to  burn  into  me,  and  my 
own  tongue  clave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth.  He 
opened  his  lips  and  pointed  to  his  throat  with  a 
horrid  gesture,  and  I  shook  my  head  and  turned 
from  him — '  You  can  let  me  have  some  bedding  ? ' 
I  murmured  hastily,  for  the  sake  of  saying  some- 
thing, and  to  escape. 

'  Of  course,  Monsieur,'  Louis  answered.  '  I  will 
fetch  some.' 

He  went  away,  thinking  doubtless  that  Clon 
would  stay  with  me.  But  after  waiting  a  minute 
the  porter  strode  off  also  with  the  lanthorn,  leaving 
me  to  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  damp,  dark 
room  and  reflect  on  the  position.  It  was  plain 
that  Clon  suspected  me.  This  prison-like  room, 
with  its  barred  window,  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  in  the  wing  farthest  from  the  stables,  proved 
so   much.      Clearly,  he   was   a   dangerous   fellow, 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  71 

of  whom  I  must  beware.  I  had  just  begun  to 
wonder  how  Madame  could  keep  such  a  monster 
in  her  house,  when  I  heard  his  step  returning. 
He  came  in,  lighting  Louis,  who  carried  a  small 
pallet  and  a  bundle  of  coverings. 

The  dumb  man  had,  besides  the  lanthorn,  a 
bowl  of  water  and  a  piece  of  rag  in  his  hand. 
He  set  them  down,  and  going  out  again,  fetched 
in  a  stool.  Then  he  hung  up  the  lanthorn  on 
a  nail,  took  the  bowl  and  rag,  and  invited  me 
to  sit  down. 

I  was  loth  to  let  him  touch  me ;  but  he  con- 
tinued to  stand  over  me,  pointing  and  grinning 
with  dark  persistence,  and  rather  than  stand  on 
a  trifle  I  sat  down  at  last  and  gave  him  his 
way.  He  bathed  my  head  carefully  enough, 
and  I  dare  say  did  it  good  ;  but  I  understood. 
I  knew  that  his  only  desire  was  to  learn  whether 
the  cut  was  real  or  a  pretence,  and  I  began  to 
fear  him  more  and  more ;  until  he  was  gone 
from  the  room,  I  dared  scarcely  lift  my  face  lest 
he  should  read  too  much  in  it. 

Alone,  even,  I  felt  uncomfortable,  this  seem.ed 


72  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

so  sinister  a  business,  and  so  ill  begun.  I  was 
in  the  house.  But  Madame's  frank  voice  haunted 
me,  and  the  dumb  man's  eyes,  full  of  suspicion 
and  menace.  When  I  presently  got  up  and  tried 
my  door,  I  found  it  locked.  The  room  smelt 
dank  and  close — like  a  vault.  I  could  not  see 
through  the  barred  window,  but  1  could  hear 
the  boughs  sweep  it  in  ghostly  fashion  ;  and  I 
guessed  that  it  looked  out  where  the  wood  grew 
close  to  the  walls  of  the  house,  and  that  even 
in  the  day  the  sun  never  peeped  through  it. 

Nevertheless,  tired  and  worn  out,  I  slept  at 
last  When  I  awoke  the  room  was  full  of  grey 
light,  the  door  stood  open,  and  Louis,  looking 
ashamed  of  himself,  waited  by  my  pallet  with 
a  cup  of  wine  in  his  hand,  and  some  bread  and 
fruit  on  a  platter. 

'Will  Monsieur  be  good  enough  to  rise?'  he 
said.     •  It  is  eight  o'clock.' 

'Willingly,'  I  answered  tartly.  'Now  that  the 
door  is  unlocked.' 

lie  turned  red.  'It  was  an  oversight,'  he 
stammered.      '  Clon    is   accustomed    to    lock    the 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  73 

door,  and  he  did  it  inadvertently,  forgetting  that 
there  was  anyone — ' 
'  Inside/  I  said  drily. 

*  Precisely,  Monsieur,' 

•Ah!'  I  replied.  'Well,  I  do  not  think  the 
oversight  would  please  Madame  de  Cocheforet 
if  she  heard  of  it  ? ' 

'  If  Monsieur  would  have  the  kindness  not 
to—' 

'  Mention  it,  my  good  fellow  ? '  I  answered, 
looking  at  him  with  meaning  as  I  rose.  'No. 
But  it  must  not  occur  again.' 

I  saw  that  this  man  was  not  like  Clon.  He 
had  the  instincts  of  the  family  servant,  and 
freed  from  the  influences  of  fear  and  darkness 
felt  ashamed  of  his  conduct,  While  he  arranged 
my  clothes,  he  looked  round  the  room  with  an 
air  of  distaste,  and  muttered  once  or  twice  that 
the  furniture  of  the  principal  chambers  was 
packed  away. 

*  M.  de  Cocheforet  is  abroad,  I  think  ? '  I  said 
as  I  dressed. 

'  And   likely  to  remain    there,'    the    man    an- 


74  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

swered  carelessly,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
'  Monsieur  will  doubtless  have  heard  that  he 
is  in  trouble.  In  the  meantime,  the  house 
is  triste,  and  Monsieur  must  overlook  much,  if 
he  stays.  Madame  lives  retired,  and  the  roads 
are  ill-made  and  visitors  few.' 

'  When  the  lion  was  ill  the  jackals  left  him,' 
I  said. 

Louis  nodded.  'It  is  true,'  he  answered 
simply.  He  made  no  boast  or  brag  on  his 
own  account,  I  noticed  ;  and  it  came  home  to 
me  that  he  was  a  faithful  fellow,  such  as  I 
love.  I  questioned  him  discreetly,  and  learned 
that  he  and  Clon  and  an  older  man  who  lived 
over  the  stables  were  the  only  male  servants 
left  of  a  great  household.  Madame,  her  sister- 
in-law,  and  three  women  completed  the  family. 

It  took  me  some  time  to  repair  my  ward- 
robe, so  that  I  daresay  it  was  nearly  ten  when 
I  left  my  dismal  little  room.  I  found  Louis 
waiting  in  the  corridor,  and  he  told  me  that 
Madame  de  Cochefor^t  and  Mademoiselle  were 
in   the   rose   garden,   and    would    be    pleased    to 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  75 

receive  me.  I  nodded,  and  he  guided  me 
through  several  dim  passages  to  a  parlour  with 
an  open  door,  through  which  the  sun  shone 
gaily  on  the  floor.  Cheered  by  the  morning 
air  and  this  sudden  change  to  pleasantness  and 
life,  I  stepped  lightly  out. 

The  two  ladies  were  walking  up  and  down  a 
wide  path  which  bisected  the  garden.  The  weeds 
grew  rankly  in  the  gravel  underfoot,  the  rose 
bushes  which  bordered  the  walk  thrust  their 
branches  here  and  there  in  untrained  freedom,  a 
dark  yew  hedge  which  formed  the  background 
bristled  with  rough  shoots  and  sadly  needed 
trimming.  But  I  did  not  see  any  of  these  things. 
The  grace,  the  noble  air,  the  distinction  of  the 
two  women  who  paced  slowly  to  meet  me — and 
who  shared  all  these  qualitiss,  greatly  as  they 
differed  in  others — left  me  no  power  to  notice 
trifles. 

Mademoiselle  was  a  head  shorter  than  her  belle 
sceur — a  slender  woman  and  petite,  with  a  beauti- 
ful face  and  a  fair  complexion  ;  a  woman  wholly 
womanly.     She   walked   with  dignity,  but  beside 


76  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

Madame's  stately  figure  she  had  an  air  almost 
childish.  And  it  was  characteristic  of  the  two 
that  Mademoiselle  as  they  drew  near  to  me  re- 
garded me  with  sorrowful  attention,  Madame  with 
a  grave  smile, 

I  bowed  low.  They  returned  the  salute.  '  This 
is  my  sister,'  Madame  de  Cochefordt  said,  with  a 
very  slight  air  of  condescension.  *  Will  you  please 
to  tell  me  your  name,  Monsieur  ? ' 

'  I  am  M.  de  Barthe,  a  gentleman  of  Normandy,' 
I  said,  taking  on  impulse  the  name  of  my  mother. 
My  own,  by  a  possibility,  might  be  known. 

Madame's  face  wore  a  puzzled  look.  '  I  do 
not  know  that  name,  I  think,'  she  said  thought- 
fully. Doubtless  she  was  going  over  in  her  mind 
all  the  names  with  which  conspiracy  had  made 
her  familiar. 

'  That  is  my  misfortune,  Madame,'  I  said  humbly. 

'Nevertheless  I  am  going  to  scold  you,'  she 
rejoined,  still  eyeing  me  with  some  keenness.  *  I 
am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  none  the  worse  for 
your  adventure — but  others  may  be.  And  you 
should  have  borne  that  in  mind,  sir.' 


I   AM   M.   DE  BaRTHE,   a   GENTLEMAN   OF   NORMANDY,"'   I   SAID. 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  77 

'  I  do  not  think  that  I  hurt  the  man  seriously,' 
I  stammered. 

•  I  do  not  refer  to  that,'  she  answered  coldly. 
You  know,  or  should  know,  that  we  are  in  dis- 
grace here ;  that  the  Government  regards  us 
already  with  an  evil  eye,  and  that  a  very  small 
thing  would  lead  them  to  garrison  the  village,  and 
perhaps  oust  us  from  the  little  the  wars  have  left 
us.  You  should  have  known  this,  and  considered 
it,'  she  continued.  '  Whereas— I  do  not  say  that 
you  are  a  braggart,  M.  de  Barthe.  But  on  this 
one  occasion  you  seem  to  have  played  the  part 
of  one.' 

'  Madame,  I  did  not  think,'  I  stammered. 

'Want  of  thought  causes  much  evil,'  she  an- 
swered, smiling.  '  However,  I  have  spoken,  and  we 
trust  that  while  you  stay  with  us  you  will  be  more 
careful.  For  the  rest.  Monsieur,'  she  continued 
graciously,  raising  her  hand  to  prevent  me  speak- 
ing, '  we  do  not  know  why  you  are  here,  or  what 
plans  you  are  pursuing.  And  we  do  not  wish  to 
know.  It  is  enough  that  you  are  of  our  side. 
This  house  is  at  your  service  as  long  as  you  please 


78  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

to  use  it     And  if  we  can  aid  you  in  any  other 
way  we  will  do  so.' 

'  Madame  ! '  I  exclaimed  ;  and  there  I  stopped. 
I  could  say  no  more.  The  rose-garden,  with  its 
air  of  neglect,  the  shadow  of  the  quiet  house  that 
fell  across  it,  the  great  yew  hedge  which  backed 
it,  and  was  the  pattern  of  one  under  which  I  had 
played  in  childhood— all  had  points  that  pricked 
me.  But  the  women's  kindness,  their  unquestion- 
ing confidence,  the  noble  air  of  hospitality  which 
moved  them  !  Against  these  and  their  placid 
beauty  in  its  peaceful  frame  I  had  no  shield,  no 
defence.  I  turned  away,  and  feigned  to  be  over- 
come by  gratitude. 

'  I  have  no  words— to  thank  you  ! '  I  muttered 
presently.  *  I  am  a  little  shaken  this  morning.  I 
— pardon  me.' 

'  We  will  leave  you  for  a  while,'  Mademoiselle 
de  Cocheforet  said  in  gentle  pitying  tones.  '  The 
air  will  revive  you.  Louis  shall  call  you  when  we 
go  to  dinner,  M.  dc  Barthc.     Come,  Elise.' 

I  bowed  low  to  hide  my  face,  and  they  nodded 
pleasantly- not   looking   closely   at   me— as   they 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  79 

walked  by  me  to  the  house.  I  watched  the  two 
gracious,  pale-robed  figures  until  the  doorway- 
swallowed  them,  and  then  I  walked  away  to  a  quiet 
corner  where  the  shrubs  grew  highest  and  the  yew 
hedge  threw  its  deepest  shadow,  and  I  stood  to 
think. 

And,  mon  Dieu,  strange  thoughts.  If  the  oak 
can  think  at  the  moment  the  wind  uproots  it, 
or  the  gnarled  thorn-bush  when  the  landslip 
tears  it  from  the  slope,  they  may  have  such 
thoughts.  I  stared  at  the  leaves,  at  the 
rotting  blossoms,  into  the  dark  cavities  of 
the  hedge ;  I  stared  mechanically,  dazed  and 
wondering.  What  was  the  purpose  for  which 
I  was  here  ?  What  was  the  work  I  had 
come  to  do  ?  Above  all,  how — my  God !  how 
was  I  to  do  it  in  the  face  of  these  helpless 
women,  who  trusted  me,  who  believed  in  me, 
who  opened  their  house  to  me  ?  Clon  had  not 
frightened  me,  nor  the  loneliness  of  the  leagued 
village,  nor  the  remoteness  of  this  corner 
where  the  dread  Cardinal  seemed  a  name,  and 
the   King's    writ   ran   slowly,  and    the    rebellion. 


8o  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

long  quenched  elsewhere,  still  smouldered.  But 
Madame's  pure  faith  ,.the  younger  woman's  ten- 
derness— how  was  I  to  face  these? 

I  cursed  the  Cardinal— would  he  had  stayed 
at  Luchon.  I  cursed  the  English  fool  who  had 
brought  me  to  this,  I  cursed  the  years  of 
plenty  and  scarceness,  and  the  Quartier  Marais, 
and  Zaton's,  where  I  had  lived  like  a  pig,  and — 

A  touch  fell  on  my  arm.  I  turned.  It  was 
Clon.  How  he  had  stolen  up  so  quietly,  how 
long  he  had  been  at  my  elbow,  I  could  not  tell. 
But  his  eyes  gleamed  spitefully  in  their  deep 
sockets,  and  he  laughed  with  his  fleshless  lips ; 
and  I  hated  him.  In  the  daylight  the  man 
looked  more  like  a  death's-head  than  ever.  I 
fancied  that  I  read  in  his  face  that  he  knew 
my   secret,   and    I    flashed    into   rage  at  sight  of 

him. 

'  What  is  it  ? '  I  cried,  with  another  oath. 
Don't  lay  your  corpse-claws  on  me  ! ' 

He  mowed  at  me,  and,  bowing  with  ironical 
politeness,   pointed   to  the  house. 

'  Is     Madame     served  ?       I    said     impatiently 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD  8i 

crushing  down  my  anger.  •  Is  that  what  you 
mean,  fool  ? ' 

He  nodded. 

*  Very  well/  I  retorted.  '  I  can  find  my  way 
then.     You  may   go  ! ' 

He  fell  behind,  and  I  strode  back  through 
the  sunshine  and  flowers,  and  along  the  grass- 
grown  paths,  to  the  door  by  which  I  had  come. 
I  walked  fast,  but  his  shadow  kept  pace  with  me, 
driving  out  the  unaccustomed  thoughts  in  which 
I  had  been  indulging.  Slowly  but  surely  it 
darkened  my  mood.  After  all,  this  was  a 
little,  little  place  ;  the  people  who  lived  here — 
I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  France,  power,  plea- 
sure, life,  everything  worth  winning,  worth 
having,  lay  yonder  in  the  great  city.  A  boy 
might  wreck  himself  here  for  a  fancy  ;  a  man 
of  the  world,  never.  When  I  entered  the  room, 
where  the  two  ladies  stood  waiting  for  me  by 
the  table,  I  was  nearly  my  old  self  again.  And 
a  chance  word  presently  completed  the  work. 

'  Clon  made  you  understand,  then  ? '  the  younger 
woman  said  kindly,  as  I  took  my  seat 


82  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  Yes,  Mademoiselle,'  I  answered.  On  that  I 
saw  the  two  smile  at  one  another,  and  I  added  : 
*  He  is  a  strange  creature.  I  wonder  that  you 
can  bear  to  have  him  near   you.' 

'  Poor  man !  You  do  not  know  his  story  ? ' 
Madame  said. 

'  I  have  heard  something  of  it,'  I  answered. 
'  Louis  told   me.' 

*  Well,  I  do  shudder  at  him  sometimes,' 
she  replied,  in  a  low  voice.  '  He  has  suffered 
— and  horribly,  and  for  us.  But  I  wish  that 
it  had  been  on  any  other  service.  Spies 
arc  necessary  things,  but  one  does  not  wish 
to  have  to  do  with  them  !  Anything  in 
the   nature   of  treachery   is  so   horrible.' 

'  Quick,  Louis ! '  Mademoiselle  exclaimed, 
'  the  cognac,  if  you  have  any  there !  I  am 
sure  that  you    are — still    feeling   ill,   Monsieur.' 

'  No,  I  thank  you,'  I  muttered  hoarsely, 
making  an  effort  to  recover  myself.  '  I  am 
quite  well.  It  was — an  old  wound  that  some- 
times  touches   me.' 


CHAPTER    IV 

MADAME    AND    MADEMOISELLE 

'T^^O  be  frank,  however,  it  was  not  the  old 
wound  that  touched  me  so  nearly,  but 
Madame's  words ;  which,  finishing  what  Clon's 
sudden  appearance  in  the  garden  had  begun, 
went  a  long  way  towards  hardening  me  and 
throwing  me  back  into  myself.  I  saw  with 
bitterness  —  what  I  had  perhaps  forgotten  for 
a  moment  —  how  great  was  the  chasm  that 
separated  me  from  these  women ;  how  impos- 
sible it  was  that  we  could  long  think  alike ;  how 
far  apart  in  views,  in  experience,  in  aims  we  were. 
And  while  I  made  a  mock  in  my  heart  of  their 
high-flown  sentiments  —  or  thought  I  did  —  I 
laughed  no  less  at  the  folly  which  had  led   me 

to  dream,  even  for  a  moment,  that   I   could,  at 

83 


84  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

my  age,  go  back — go  back  and  risk  all  for  a  whim, 
a  scruple,  the  fancy  of  a  lonely  hour. 

I  daresay  something  of  this  showed  in  my  face ; 
for  Madame's  eyes  mirrored  a  dim  reflection  of 
trouble  as  she  looked  at  me,  and  Mademoiselle 
talked  nervously  and  at  random.  At  any  rate, 
I  fancied  so,  and  I  hastened  to  compose  myself; 
and  the  two,  in  pressing  upon  me  the  simple 
dainties  of  the  table  soon  forgot,  or  appeared  to 
forget,  the  incident. 

Yet  in  spite  of  this  contretemps^  that  first  meal 
had  a  strange  charm  for  me.  The  round  table 
whereat  we  dined  was  spread  inside  the  open 
door  which  led  to  the  garden,  so  that  the 
October  sunshine  fell  full  on  the  spotless  linen 
and  quaint  old  plate,  and  the  fresh  balmy  air 
filled  the  room  with  the  sent  of  sweet  herbs. 
Louis  served  us  with  the  mien  of  a  major- 
domo,  and  set  on  each  dish  as  though  it  had 
been  a  peacock  or  a  mess  of  ortolans.  The 
woods  provided  the  larger  portion  of  our  meal; 
the  garden  did  its  part ;  the  confections  Made- 
moiselle had  cooked  with  her  own  hand. 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE  85 

By-and-by,  as  the  meal  went  on,  as  Louis 
trod  to  and  fro  across  the  polished  floor,  and  the 
last  insects  of  summer  hummed  sleepily  outside, 
and  the  two  gracious  faces  continued  to  smile  at 
me  out  of  the  gloom — for  the  ladies  sat  with 
their  backs  to  the  door — I  began  to  dream 
again.  I  began  to  sink  again  into  folly,  that 
was  half-pleasure,  half-pain.  The  fury  of  the 
gaming  -  house  and  the  riot  of  Zaton's  seemed 
far  away.  The  triumphs  of  the  fencing  -  room — 
even  they  grew  cheap  and  tawdry.  I  thought  of 
existence  as  one  outside  it.  I  balanced  this 
against  that,  and  wondered  whether,  after  all, 
the  red  soutane  were  so  much  better  than  the 
homely  jerkin,  or  the  fame  of  a  day  than  ease 
and  safety. 

And  life  at  Cochefor^t  was  all  after  the  pattern 
of  this  dinner.  Each  day,  I  might  almost  say 
each  meal,  gave  rise  to  the  same  sequence  of 
thoughts.  In  Clon's  presence,  or  when  some 
word  of  Madame's,  unconsciously  harsh,  reminded 
me  of  the  distance  between  us,  I  was  myself. 
At  other  times,  in  face   of  this  peaceful  and  inti- 


86  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

mate  life,  which  was  only  rendered  possible  by 
the  remoteness  of  the  place  and  the  peculiar 
circumstances  in  which  the  ladies  stood,  I  felt  a 
strange  weakness.  The  loneliness  of  the  woods 
that  encircled  the  house,  and  only  here  and 
there  afforded  a  distant  glimpse  of  snow-clad 
peaks ;  the  absence  of  any  link  to  blind  me  to 
the  old  life,  so  that  at  intervals  it  seemed  un- 
real ;  the  remoteness  of  the  great  world,  all 
tended  to  sap  my  will  and  weaken  the  purpose 
which  had  brought  me  to  this  place. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  my  coming,  however, 
something  happened  to  break  the  spell.  It 
chanced  that  I  came  late  to  dinner,  and  entered 
the  room  hastily  and  without  ceremony,  expect- 
ing to  find  Madame  and  her  sister  already  seated. 
Instead,  I  found  them  talking  in  a  low  tone  by 
the  open  door,  with  every  mark  of  disorder  in 
their  appearance ;  while  Clon  and  Louis  stood 
at  a  little  distance  with  downcast  faces  and  per- 
plexed looks. 

I  had  time  to  see  all  this,  and  then  my  entrance 
wrought  a  sudden  change.     Clon  and  Louis  sprang 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE  87 

to  attention  ;  Madame  and  her  sister  came  to  the 
table  and  sat  down ;  and  all  made  a  shallow  pre- 
tence of  being  at  their  ease.  But  Mademoiselle's 
face  was  pale,  her  hand  trembled  ;  and  though 
Madame's  greater  self-command  enabled  her  to 
carry  off  the  matter  better,  I  saw  that  she  was 
not  herself  Once  or  twice  she  spoke  harshly  to 
Louis ;  she  fell  at  other  times  into  a  brown  study ; 
and  when  she  thought  that  I  was  not  watching 
her,  her  face  wore  a  look  of  deep  anxiety, 

I  wondered  what  all  this  meant  ;  and  I  won- 
dered more  when,  after  the  meal,  the  two  walked 
in  the  garden  for  an  hour  with  Clon.  Made- 
moiselle came  from  this  interview  alone,  and  I 
was  sure  that  she  had  been  weeping.  Madame 
and  the  dark  porter  stayed  outside  some  time 
longer ;  then  she,  too,  came  in,  and  disappeared. 

Clon  did  not  return  with  her,  and  when  I  went 
into  the  garden  five  minutes  later,  Louis  also 
had  vanished.  Save  for  two  women  who  sat 
sewing  at  an  upper  window,  the  house  seemed  to 
be  deserted.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  afternoon 
stillness  of  room  or  garden,  and  yet    I    felt  that 


88  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

more  was  happening  in  this  silence  than  appeared 
on  the  surface.  I  began  to  grow  curious — sus- 
picious ;  and  presently  sh'pped  out  myself  by 
way  of  the  stables,  and  skirting  the  wood  at  the 
back  of  the  house,  gained  with  a  little  trouble 
the  bridge  which  crossed  the  stream  and  led  to 
the  village. 

Turning  round  at  this  point  I  could  see  the 
house,  and  I  moved  a  little  aside  into  the  under- 
wood, and  stood  gazing  at  the  windows,  trying 
to  unriddle  the  matter.  It  was  not  likely  that 
M.  de  Cocheforet  would  repeat  his  visit  so  soon ; 
and,  besides,  the  women's  emotions  had  been 
those  of  pure  dismay  and  grief,  unmixed  with 
any  of  the  satisfaction  to  which  such  a  meeting, 
though  snatched  by  stealth,  must  give  rise.  I 
discarded  my  first  thought  therefore — that  he  had 
returned  unexpectedly — and  I  sought  for  another 
solution. 

But  no  other  was  on  the  instant  forthcoming. 
The  windows  remained  obstinately  blind,  no 
figures  appeared  on  the  terrace,  the  garden  lay 
deserted,   and    without    life.      My   departure   had 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE  89 

not,  as  I  half  expected  it  would,  drawn  the 
secret  into  light. 

I  watched  awhile,  at  times  cursing  my  own 
meanness ;  but  the  excitement  of  the  moment 
and  the  quest  tided  me  over  that.  Then  I 
determined  to  go  down  into  the  village  and  see 
whether  anything  was  moving  there.  I  had  been 
down  to  the  inn  once,  and  had  been  received 
half  sulkily,  half  courteously,  as  a  person  privi- 
leged at  the  great  house,  and  therefore  to  be 
accepted.  It  would  not  be  thought  odd  if  I 
went  again,  and  after  a  moment's  thought,  I 
started  down  the  track. 

This,  where  it  ran  through  the  wood,  was  so 
densely  shaded  that  the  sun  penetrated  to  it  little, 
and  in  patches  only.  A  squirrel  stirred  at  times, 
sliding  round  a  trunk,  or  scampering  across  the 
dry  leaves.  Occasionally  a  pig  grunted  and  moved 
farther  into  the  wood.  But  the  place  was  very 
quiet,  and  I  do  not  know  how  it  was  that  I 
surprised  Clon  instead  of  being  surprised  by  him. 

He  was  walking  along  the  path  before  me 
with  his  eyes  on  the  ground — walking  so  slowly, 


90  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

and  with  his  lean  frame  so  bent  that  I  might 
have  supposed  him  ill  if  I  had  not  remarked  the 
steady  movement  of  his  head  from  right  to  left, 
and  the  alert  touch  with  which  he  now  and  again 
displaced  a  clod  of  earth  or  a  cluster  of  leaves. 
By-and-by  he  rose  stiffly,  and  looked  round  him 
suspiciously ;  but  by  that  time  I  had  slipped 
behind  a  trunk,  and  was  not  to  be  seen ;  and 
after  a  brief  interval  he  went  back  to  his  task, 
stooping  over  it  more  closely,  if  possible,  than  be- 
fore, and  applying  himself  with  even  greater  care. 
By  that  time  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that 
he  was  tracking  someone.  But  whom  ?  I  could 
not  make  a  guess  at  that.  I  only  knew  that 
the  plot  was  thickening,  and  began  to  feel 
the  eagerness  of  the  chase.  Of  course,  if  the 
matter  had  not  to  do  with  Cocheforet,  it  was 
no  affair  of  mine ;  but  though  it  seemed  un- 
likely that  anything  could  bring  him  back  so 
soon,  he  might  still  be  at  the  bottom  of  this. 
And,  besides,  I  felt  a  natural  curiosity.  When 
Clon  at  last  improved  his  pace,  and  went  on 
to  the  village,    I   took    up  his  task.     I   called  to 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE  91 

mind  all  the  wood-lore  I  had  ever  learned,  and 
scanned  trodden  mould  and  crushed  leaves  with 
eager  eyes.  But  in  vain.  I  could  make  nothing 
of  it  all,  and  rose  at  last  with  an  aching  back 
and  no  advantage. 

I  did  not  go  on  to  the  village  after  that,  but 
returned  to  the  house,  where  I  found  Madame 
pacing  the  garden.  She  looked  up  eagerly  on 
hearing  my  step ;  and  I  was  mistaken  if  she 
was  not  disappointed  —  if  she  had  not  been 
expecting  someone  else.  She  hid  the  feeling 
bravely,  however,  and  met  me  with  a  careless 
word  ;  but  she  turned  to  the  house  more  than 
once  while  we  talked,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
all  the  while  on  the  watch,  and  uneasy.  I  was 
not  surprised  when  Clon's  figure  presently  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway,  and  she  left  me  ab- 
ruptly, and  went  to  him.  I  only  felt  more 
certain  than  before  that  there  was  some- 
thing strange  on  foot.  What  it  was,  and 
whether  it  had  to  do  with  M.  de  Cocheforet,  I 
could  not  tell.  But  there  it  was,  and  I 
grew  more  curious  the  longer  I  remained  alone. 


9«  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

She  came  back  to  me  presently,  looking 
thoughtful  and  a  trifle   downcast. 

'That  was  Clon,  was  it  not?'  I  said,  studying 
her  face. 

*  Yes,'  she  answered.  She  spoke  absently,  and 
did  not  look  at  me. 

'How  does  he  talk  to  you?'  I  asked,  speak- 
ing a  trifle  curtly. 

As  I  intended,  my  tone  roused  her. 

'By  signs,'  she  said. 

'Is  he— is  he  not  a  little  mad?'  I  ventured, 
I  wanted  to  make  her  talk  and  forget  herself. 

She  looked  at  me  with  sudden  keenness, 
then  dropped  her  eyes. 

You  do  not  like  him?'  she  said,  a  note  of 
challenge  in  her  voice.  '  I  have  noticed  that 
Monsieur.* 

I  think  he  does  not  like  me,'  I  replied. 

'  He  is  less  trustful  than  we  are,'  she  an- 
swered nalfvely.  '  It  is  natural  that  he  should 
be.     He  has  seen  more  of  the  world.' 

That  silenced  mc  for  a  moment,  but  she  did 
not  seem  to  notice  it 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE  93 

*  I  was  looking  for  him  a  little  while  ago,  and 
I  could  not  find  him,'  I  said,  after  a  pause. 

•He  has  been  into  the  village,'  she  answered. 

I  longed  to  pursue  the  matter  further ;  but 
though  she  seemed  to  entertain  no  suspicion  of 
me,  I  dared  not  run  the  risk.  I  tried  her,  in- 
stead, on  another  tack. 

*  Mademoiselle  de  Cocheforet  does  not  seem 
very  well  to-day  ? '  I  said. 

*No?'  she  answered  carelessly.  'Well,  now 
you  speak  of  it,  I  do  not  think  that  she  is. 
She  is  often  anxious  about — one  we  love.' 

She  uttered  the  last  words  with  a  little  hesi- 
tation, and  looked  at  me  quickly  when  she  had 
spoken  them.  We  were  sitting  at  the  moment 
on  a  stone  seat  which  had  the  wall  of  the  house 
for  a  back ;  and,  fortunately,  I  was  toying  with 
the  branch  of  a  creeping  plant  that  hung  over 
it,  so  that  she  could  not  see  more  than  the  side 
of  my  face.  For  I  knew  that  it  altered.  Over 
my  voice,  however,  I  had  more  control,  and  I 
hastened  to  answer,  'Yes,  I  suppose  so,'  as 
innocently  as  possible. 


94  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  He  is  at  Bosost,  in  Spain.  You  knew  that, 
I  conclude?'  she  said,  with  a  certain  sharpness. 
And  she  looked  me  in  the  face  again  very 
directly. 

'Yes,'  I  answered,  beginning  to  tremble. 

*  I  suppose  you  have  heard,  too,  that  he — 
that  he  sometimes  crosses  the  border?'  she  con- 
tinued in  a  low  voice,  but  with  a  certain  ring 
of  insistence  in  her  tone.  '  Or,  if  you  have 
not  heard  it,  you  guess  it  ? ' 

I  was  in  a  quandary,  and  grew,  in  one 
second,  hot  all  over.  Uncertain  what  amount  of 
knowledge  I  ought  to  admit,  I  took  refuge  in 
gallantry. 

'  I  should  be  surprised  if  he  did  not,'  I 
answered,  with  a  bow,  *  being,  as  he  is,  so 
close,  and  having  such  an  inducement  to  re- 
turn, Madame.' 

She  drew  a  long,  shivering  sigh,  at  the  thought 
of  his  peril,  I  fancied,  and  she  sat  back  against 
the  wall.  Nor  did  she  say  any  more,  though 
I  heard  her  sigh  again.  In  a  moment  she 
rose. 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE  95 

'  The  afternoons  are  growing  chilly,'  she  said ; 
'  I  will  go  in  and  see  how  Mademoiselle  is. 
Sometimes  she  does  not  come  to  supper.  If 
she  cannot  descend  this  evening,  I  am  afraid 
that  you  must  excuse  me  too,  Monsieur.' 

I  said  what  was  right,  and  watched  her  go 
in ;  and,  as  I  did  so,  I  loathed  my  errand,  and 
the  mean  contemptible  curiosity  which  it  had 
planted  in  my  mind,  more  than  at  any  former 
time.  These  women  —  I  could  find  it  in  my 
heart  to  hate  them  for  their  frankness,  for  their 
foolish  confidence,  and  the  silly  trustfulness  that 
made  them  so  easy  a  prey ! 

Nom  de  Dieu!  What  did  the  woman  mean 
by  telling  me  all  this?  To  meet  me  in  such 
a  way,  to  disarm  one  by  such  methods,  was  to 
take  an  unfair  advantage.  It  put  a  vile — ay, 
the  vilest — aspect,  on  the  work  I  had  to  do. 

Yet  it  was  very  odd !  What  could  M.  de 
Cocheforet  mean  by  returning  so  soon,  if  M.  de 
Cocheforet  was  here?  And,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  it  was  not  his  unexpected  presence  that  had 
so  upset  the  house,  what  was  the  secret  ?     Whom 


96  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

had  Clon  been  tracking?  And  what  was  the 
cause  of  Madame's  anxiety  ?  In  a  few  minutes 
I  began  to  grow  curious  again ;  and,  as  the 
ladies  did  not  appear  at  supper,  I  had  leisure 
to  give  my  brain  full  licence,  and,  in  the  course 
of  an  hour,  thought  of  a  hundred  keys  to  the 
mystery.  But  none  exactly  fitted  the  lock,  or 
laid  open  the  secret. 

A  false  alarm  that  evening  helped  to  puzzle 
me  still  more.  I  was  sitting  about  an  hour  after 
supper,  on  the  same  seat  in  the  garden— I  had 
my  cloak  and  was  smoking — when  Madame  came 
out  like  a  ghost,  and,  without  seeing  me,  flitted 
away  through  the  darkness  toward  the  stables. 
For  a  moment  I  hesitated,  and  then  I  followed 
her.  She  went  down  the  path  and  round  the 
stables,  and,  so  far,  I  saw  nothing  strange  in 
her  actions ;  but  when  she  had  in  this  way 
gained  the  rear  of  the  west  wing,  she  took 
a  track  through  the  thicket  to  the  east  of  the 
house  again,  and  so  came  back  to  the  garden. 
This  gained,  she  came  up  the  path  and  went 
in  through   the  parlour  door,  and  disappeared — 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE  97 

after  making  a  clear  circuit  of  the  house,  and 
not  once  pausing  or  looking  to  right  or  left !  I 
confess  I  was  fairly  baffled.  I  sank  back  on  the 
seat  I  had  left,  and  said  to  myself  that  this  was 
the  lamest  of  all  conclusions.  I  was  sure  that 
she  had  exchanged  no  word  with  anyone.  I 
was  equally  sure  that  she  had  not  detected  my 
presence  behind  her.  Why,  then,  had  she  made 
this  strange  promenade,  alone,  unprotected,  an 
hour  after  nightfall  ?  No  dog  had  bayed,  no  one 
had  moved,  she  had  not  once  paused,  or  listened, 
like  a  person  expecting  a  rencontre.  I  could  not 
make  it  out.  And  I  came  no  nearer  to  solving 
it,  though  I  lay  awake  an  hour  beyond  my  usual 
time. 

In  the  morning,  neither  of  the  ladies  descended 
to  dinner,  and  I  heard  that  Mademoiselle  was 
not  so  well.  After  a  lonely  meal,  therefore — I 
missed  them  more  than  I  should  have  supposed 
— I  retired  to  my  favourite  seat  and  fell  to  medi- 
tating. 

The  day  was  fine,  and  the  garden  pleasant 
Sitting  there  with  my  eyes  on  the  old-fashioned 


98  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

herb-beds,  with  the  old-fashioned  scents  in  the 
air,  and  the  dark  belt  of  trees  bounding  the  view 
on  either  side,  I  could  believe  that  I  had  been 
out  of  Paris  not  three  weeks,  but  three  months. 
The  quiet  lapped  me  round.  I  could  fancy  that 
I  had  never  loved  anything  else.  The  wood- 
doves  cooed  in  the  stillness;  occasionally  the 
harsh  cry  of  a  jay  jarred  the  silence.  It  was 
an  hour  after  noon,  and  hot.     I  think  I  nodded. 

On  a  sudden,  as  if  in  a  dream,  I  saw  Clon's 
face  peering  at  me  round  the  angle  of  the  parlour 
door.  He  looked,  and  in  a  moment  withdrew, 
and  I  heard  whispering.  The  door  was  gently 
closed.     Then  all  was  still  again. 

But  I  was  wide  awake  now,  and  thinking 
Clearly  the  people  of  the  house  wished  to  assure 
themselves  that  I  was  asleep  and  safely  out  of 
the  way.  As  clearly,  it  was  to  my  interest  to  be 
in  the  way.  Giving  place  to  the  temptation,  I 
rose  quietly,  and,  stooping  below  the  level  of  the 
windows,  slipped  round  the  east  end  of  the  house, 
passing  between  it  and  the  great  yew  hedge.  Here 
I  found  all  still  and  no  one  stirring;  so,  keeping 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE  99 

a  wary  eye  about  me,  I  went  on  round  the  house 
— reversing  the  route  which  Madame  had  taken 
the  night  before — until  I  gained  the  rear  of  the 
stables.  Here  I  had  scarcely  paused  a  second 
to  scan  the  ground  before  two  persons  came  out 
of  the  stable-court.  They  were  Madame  and  the 
porter. 

They  stood  a  brief  while  outside  and  looked 
up  and  down.  Then  Madame  said  something  to 
the  man,  and  he  nodded.  Leaving  him  stand- 
ing where  he  was,  she  crossed  the  grass  with  a 
quick,  light  step,  and  vanished  among  the 
trees. 

In  a  moment  my  mind  was  made  up  to  follow ; 
and,  as  Clon  turned  at  once  and  went  in,  I  was 
able  to  do  so  before  it  was  too  late.  Bending 
low  among  the  shrubs,  I  ran  hotfoot  to  the  point 
where  Madame  had  entered  the  wood.  Here  I 
found  a  narrow  path,  and  ran  nimbly  along  it,  and 
presently  saw  her  grey  robe  fluttering  among  the 
trees  before  me.  It  only  remained  to  keep  out  of 
her  sight  and  give  her  no  chance  of  discovering 
that  she  was  followed ;  and  this  I  set  myself  to  do. 


loo  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

Once  or  twice  she  glanced  round,  but  the  wood 
was  of  beech,  the  h'ght  which  passed  between  the 
leaves  was  mere  twilight,  and  my  clothes  were 
dark-coloured.  I  had  every  advantage,  therefore, 
and  little  to  fear  as  long  as  I  could  keep  her  in 
view  and  still  remain  myself  at  such  a  distance 
that  the  rustle  of  my  tread  would  not  disturb 
her. 

Assured  that  she  was  on  her  way  to  meet  her 
husband,  whom  my  presence  kept  from  the  house, 
I  felt  that  the  crisis  had  come  at  last,  and  I  grew 
more  excited  with  each  step  I  took.  I  detested 
the  task  of  watching  her;  it  filled  me  with 
peevish  disgust.  But  in  proportion  as  I  hated  it  I 
was  eager  to  have  it  done  and  be  done  with  it,  and 
succeed,  and  stufif  my  ears  and  begone  from  the 
scene.  When  she  presently  came  to  the  verge  of 
the  beech  wood,  and,  entering  a  little  open  clear- 
ing, seemed  to  loiter,  I  went  cautiously.  This, 
I  thought,  must  be  the  rendezvous  ;  and  I  held 
back  warily,  looking  to  see  him  step  out  of  the 
thicket. 

But  he  did   not,  and  by-and-by  she  quickened 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE  loi 

her  pace.  She  crossed  the  open  and  entered  a 
wide  ride  cut  through  a  low,  dense  wood  of  alder 
and  dwarf  oak — a  wood  so  closely  planted  and  so 
intertwined  with  hazel  and  elder  and  box  that  the 
branches  rose  like  a  solid  wall,  twelve  feet  high,  on 
either  side  of  the  track. 

Down  this  she  passed,  and  I  stood  and  watched 
her  go,  for  I  dared  not  follow.  The  ride  stretched 
away  as  straight  as  a  line  for  four  or  five  hundred 
yards,  a  green  path  between  green  walls.  To 
enter  it  was  to  be  immediately  detected,  if  she 
turned  ;  while  the  thicket  itself  permitted  no  pas- 
sage. I  stood  baffled  and  raging,  and  watched  her 
pass  along.  It  seemed  an  age  before  she  at  last 
reached  the  end,  and,  turning  sharply  to  the  right, 
was  in  an  instant  gone  from  sight. 

I  waited  then  no  longer.  I  started  off,  and,  run- 
ning as  lightly  and  quietly  as  I  could,  I  sped  down 
the  green  alley.  The  sun  shone  into  it,  the  trees 
kept  off  the  wind,  and  between  heat  and  haste  I 
sweated  finely.  But  the  turf  was  soft,  and  the 
ground  fell  slightly,  and  in  little  more  than  I 
minute   I  gained  the  end.     Fifty  yards  short  of 


102  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

the  turning  I  stopped,  and,  stealing  on,  looked 
cautiously  the  way  she  had  gone. 

I  saw  before  me  a  second  ride,  the  twin  of  the 
other,  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  paces  down  it  her 
grey  figure  tripping  on  between  the  green  hedges. 
i  stood  and  took  breath,  and  cursed  the  wood  and 
the  heat  and  Madame's  wariness.  We  must  have 
come  a  league,  or  two-thirds  of  a  league,  at 
least.  How  far  did  the  man  expect  her  to  plod 
to  meet  him  ?  I  began  to  grow  angry.  There 
is  moderation  even  in  the  cooking  of  eggs, 
and  this  wood  might  stretch  into  Spain,  for  all 
I  knew  I 

Presently  she  turned  the  corner  and  was  gone 
again,  and  I  had  to  repeat  my  manoeuvre.  This 
time,  surely,  I  should  find  a  change.  But  no ! 
Another  green  ride  stretched  away  into  the 
depths  of  the  forest,  with  hedges  of  varying 
shades  —  here  light  and  there  dark,  as  hazel 
and  elder,  or  thorn,  and  yew  and  box 
prevailed  —  but  always  high  and  stiff  and  im- 
pervious. Halfway  down  the  ride  Madame's 
figure    tripped     steadily    on,     the    only    moving 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE         103 

thing  in  sight.  I  wondered,  stood,  and,  when 
she  vanished,  followed — only  to  find  that  she 
had  entered  another  track,  a  little  narrower  but 
in  every  other  respect  alike. 

And  so  it  went  on  for  quite  half  an  hour. 
Sometimes  Madame  turned  to  the  right, 
sometimes  to  the  left.  The  maze  seemed  to 
be  endless.  Once  or  twice  I  wondered  whether 
she  had  lost  her  way,  and  was  merely  seek- 
ing to  return.  But  her  steady,  purposeful 
gait,  her  measured  pace,  forbade  the  idea.  I 
noticed,  too,  that  she  seldom  looked  behind 
her — rarely  to  right  or  left.  Once  the  ride 
down  which  she  passed  was  carpeted  not 
with  green,  but  with  the  silvery,  sheeny  leaves 
of  some  creeping  plant  that  in  the  distance 
had  a  shimmer  like  that  of  water  at  evening. 
As  she  trod  this,  with  her  face  to  the  low 
sun,  her  tall  grey  figure  had  a  pure  air 
that  for  the  moment  startled  me — she  looked 
unearthly.  Then  I  swore  in  scorn  of  myself, 
and  at  the  next  corner  I  had  my  reward. 
She     was     no     longer     walking     on.      She     had 


I04  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

stopped,  I  found,  and  seated  herself  on  a  fallen 
tree  that  lay  in  the  ride. 

For  some  time  I  stood  in  ambush  watch- 
ing her,  and  with  each  minute  I  grew  more 
impatient.  At  last  I  began  to  doubt — to  have 
strange  thoughts.  The  green  walls  were 
growing  dark.  The  sun  was  sinking ;  a  sharp, 
white  peak,  miles  and  miles  away,  which  closed 
the  vista  of  the  ride,  began  to  flush  and  colour 
rosily.  Finally,  but  not  before  I  had  had 
leisure  to  grow  uneasy,  she  stood  up  and 
walked  on  more  slowly.  I  waited,  as  usual, 
until  the  next  turning  hid  her.  Then  I  has- 
tened after  her,  and,  warily  passing  round  the 
corner — came  face  to  face  with  her  ! 

T  knew  all  in  a  moment — saw  all  in  a  flash  : 
that  she  had  fooled  me,  tricked  me,  lured  me 
away.  Her  face  was  white  with  scorn,  her  eyes 
blazed  ;  her  figure,  as  she  confronted  me, 
trembled  with    anger    and    infinite    contempt. 

'You  spy  r  she  cried.  'You  hound!  You 
— gentleman  !  Oh,  inon  Dieu  !  if  you  are  one 
of  us — if  you   arc   really  not  of  the   canaille — wc 


"You  Spy!"  she  cried.     "You  Hound!"     "You  Gentleman!' 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE         105 

shall  pay  for  this  some  day !  We  shall  pay 
a  heavy  reckoning  in  the  time  to  come !  I  did 
not  think,'  she  continued,  and  her  every  syllable 
was  like  the  lash  of  a  whip,  '  that  there  was 
anything  so  vile  as  you  in  this  world  ! ' 

I  stammered  something  —  I  do  not  know 
what.  Her  words  burned  into  me  —  into  my 
heart!  Had  she  been  a  man,  I  would  have 
struck  her  dead ! 

'You  thought  that  you  deceived  me  yester- 
day,' she  continued,  lowering  her  tone,  but  with 
no  lessening  of  the  passion,  the  contempt,  the 
indignation,  which  curled  her  lip  and  gave 
fulness  to  her  voice.  *  You  plotter !  You 
surface  trickster!  You  thought  it  an  easy 
task  to  delude  a  woman  —  you  find  yourself 
deluded.  God  give  you  shame  that  you  may 
suffer  I '  she  continued  mercilessly.  '  You  talked 
of  Clon,  but  Clon  beside  you  is  the  most  spot- 
less, the  most  honourable  of  men  ! ' 

'  Madame/  I  said  hoarsely — and  I  know  that  my 
face  was  grey  as  ashes — '  let  us  understand  one 
another.' 


io6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  God  forbid  ! '  she  cried  on  the  instant.  '  I 
would  not  soil  myself!' 

'  Fie  !  Madame,'  I  said,  trembling.  '  But  then, 
you  are  a  woman.  That  should  cost  a  man  his 
life!' 

She  laughed  bitterly. 

'  You  say  well,'  she  retorted,  '  I  am  not  a 
man — and  if  you  are  one,  thank  God  for  it. 
Neither  am  I  Madame.  Madame  de  Coche- 
foret  has  spent  this  afternoon — thanks  to  your 
absence  and  your  imbecility — with  her  husband. 
Yes,  I  hope  that  hurts  you ! '  she  went  on, 
savagely  snapping  her  little  white  teeth  together. 
'  I  hope  that  stings  you  ;  to  spy  and  do  vile 
work,  and  do  it  ill,  Monsieur  Mouchard — Mon- 
sieur de  Mouchard,  I  should  say — I  congratulate 
you  !' 

'  You  are  not  Madame  de  Cocheforet  ? '  I 
cried,  stunned,  even  in  the  midst  of  my  shame 
and  rage,  by  this  blow. 

'  No,  Monsieur  ! '  she  answered  grimly.  '  I  am 
not !  I  am  not.  And  permit  me  to  point  out 
— for    we    do    not  all    lie    easily — that    I     never 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE         107 

said  I  was.  You  deceived  yourself  so  skilfully 
that   we  had  no  need  to  trick  you.' 

'  Mademoiselle,  then  ?  '  I  muttered. 

*  Is  Madame ! '  she  cried.  '  Yes,  and  I  am 
Mademoiselle  de  CocheforeL  And  in  that  char- 
acter, and  in  all  others,  I  beg  from  this  moment 
to  close  our  acquaintance,  sir.  When  we  meet 
again — if  we  ever  do  meet,  which  God  forbid ! ' 
she  went  on,  her  eyes  sparkling — *  do  not  presume 
to  speak  to  me,  or  I  will  have  you  flogged  by 
the  grooms.  And  do  not  stain  our  roof  by 
sleeping  under  it  again.  You  may  lie  to-night 
in  the  inn.  It  shall  not  be  said  that  Cocheforet,' 
she  continued  proudly,  'returned  even  treachery 
with  inhospitality ;  and  I  will  give  orders  to 
that  end.  But  to-morrow  begone  back  to  your 
master,  like  the  whipped  cur  you  are!  Spy 
and  coward ! ' 

With  those  last  words  she  moved  away.  I 
would  have  said  something,  I  could  almost  have 
found  it  in  my  heart  to  stop  her  and  make  her 
hear.  Nay,  I  had  dreadful  thoughts ;  for  I 
was   the   stronger,  and   I    might   have   done  with 


io8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

her  as  I  pleased.  But  she  swept  by  me  so 
fearlessly,  as  I  might  pass  some  loathsome 
cripple  on  the  road,  that  I  stood  turned  to 
stone.  Without  looking  at  me,  without  turning 
her  head  to  see  whether  I  followed  or  remained, 
or  what  I  did,  she  went  steadily  down  the 
track  until  the  trees  and  the  shadow  and  the 
growing  darkness  hid  her  grey  figure  from  me; 
and  I  found  myself  alone. 


CHAPTER    V 

REVENGE 

A   ND   full   of  black   rage!     Had   she  only  re- 

•*'  preached    me,   or,   turning    on    me    in   the 

hour    of    my    victory,    said    all     that    she    had 

now   said   in    the   moment   of  her   own,    I    could 

have    borne    it.      She    might    have    shamed    me 

then,   and    I    might    have    taken    the   shame   to 

myself    and    forgiven    her.      But,   as    it    was,    I 

stood   there  in   the  gathering   dusk,  between  the 

darkening     hedges,     baffled,     tricked,     defeated ! 

And   by   a   woman !      She   had    pitted    her  wits 

against     mine,    her    woman's     will     against     my 

experience,   and   she   had    come    off   the    victor. 

And   then   she   had   reviled   me !     As   I   took   it 

all  in,  and  began  to   comprehend    also   the  more 

remote   results,   and    how    completely  her    move 

109 


no  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

had  made  further  progress  on  my  part  impos- 
sible, I  hated  her.  She  had  tricked  me  with 
her  gracious  ways  and  her  slow-coming  smile. 
And,  after  all — for  what  she  had  said — it  was 
this  man's  life  or  mine.  What  had  I  done 
that  another  man  would  not  do?  Mon  Dieu! 
in  the  future  there  was  nothing  I  would  not 
do.  I  would  make  her  smart  for  those  words 
of  hers !     I  would  bring  her  to  her  knees ! 

Still,  hot  as  I  was,  an  hour  might  have  re- 
stored me  to  coolness.  But  when  I  started  to 
return,  I  fell  into  a  fresh  rage,  for  I  remembered 
that  I  did  not  know  my  way  out  of  the  maze 
of  rides  and  paths  into  which  she  had  drawn 
me ;  and  this  and  the  mishaps  which  followed, 
kept  my  rage  hot.  For  a  full  hour  I  wandered 
in  the  wood,  unable,  though  I  knew  where  the 
village  lay,  to  find  any  track  which  led  con- 
tinuously in  one  direction.  Whenever,  at  the 
end  of  each  attempt,  the  thicket  brought  me 
up  short,  I  fancied  that  I  heard  her  laughing 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  brake  ;  and  the 
ignominy    of    this    chance    punishment,  and    the 


REVENGE  III 

check  which  the  confinement  placed  on  my  rage, 
almost  maddened  me.  In  the  darkness  I  fell, 
and  rose  cursing  ;  I  tore  my  hands  with  thorns  ; 
I  stained  my  suit,  which  had  suffered  sadly 
once  before.  At  length,  when  I  had  almost 
resigned  myself  to  lie  in  the  wood,  I  caught 
sight  of  the  lights  of  the  village,  and,  trembl- 
ing between  haste  and  anger,  pressed  towards 
them.  In  a  few  minutes  I  stood  in  the  little 
street. 

The  lights  of  the  inn  shone  only  fifty  yards 
away ;  but  before  I  could  show  myself  even 
there  pride  suggested  that  I  should  do  some- 
thing to  repair  my  clothes.  I  stopped,  and 
scraped  and  brushed  them ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  did  what  I  could  to  compose  my  features. 
Then  I  advanced  to  the  door  and  knocked. 
Almost  on  the  instant  the  landlord's  voice 
cried  from  the  inside,  *  Enter,  Monsieur ! ' 

I  raised  the  latch  and  went  in.  The  man 
was  alone,  squatting  over  the  fire  warming 
his  hands.  A  black  pot  simmered  on  the 
ashes.       As    I    entered    he  raised    the    lid    and 


112  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

peeped  inside.  Then  he  glanced  over  his 
shoulder. 

'  You  expected  me  ? '  I  said  defiantly,  walk- 
ing to  the  hearth,  and  setting  one  of  my 
damp  boots  on  the  logs. 

'  Yes/  he  answered,  nodding  curtly.  '  Your 
supper  is  just  ready.  I  thought  that  you 
would  be  in  about  this  time.' 

He  grinned  as  he  spoke,  and  it  was  with 
difficulty  I  suppressed  my  wrath. 

'  Mademoiselle  de  Cocheforet  told  you,'  I  said, 
affecting  indifference,  '  where  I  was  ? ' 

*  Ay,  Mademoiselle — or  Madame,'  he  replied, 
grinning  afresh. 

So  she  had  told  him  ;  where  she  had  left 
me,  and  how  she  had  tricked  me !  She  had 
made  me  the  village  laughing-stock !  My 
rage  flashed  out  afresh  at  the  thought,  and,  at 
the  sight   of  his    mocking  face,    I    raised    my  fist. 

But  he  read  the  threat  in  my  eyes,  and  was 
up  in  a  moment,  snarling,  with  his  hand  on 
his  knife. 

'  Not     again.      Monsieur ! '     he     cried,    in     his 


REVENGE  H3 

vile  patois.  *  My  head  is  sore  still.  Raise  your 
hand  and  I  will  rip  you  up  as  I  would  a  pig ! ' 

'  Sit  down,  fool,'  I  said.  '  I  am  not  going 
to  harm  you.     Where  is  your  wife?' 

'About  her  business.' 

'Which  should  be  getting  my  supper,'  I 
retorted. 

He  rose  sullenly,  and,  fetching  a  platter, 
poured  the  mess  of  broth  and  vegetables  into 
it.  Then  he  went  to  a  cupboard  and  brought 
out  a  loaf  of  black  bread  and  a  measure  of 
wine,  and  set  them  also  on  the  table. 

'You  see  it,'  he  said  laconically. 

'  And  a  poor  welcome  ! '  I  replied. 

He  flamed  into  sudden  passion  at  that. 
Leaning  with  both  his  hands  on  the  table 
he  thrust  his  rugged  face  and  blood-shot 
eyes  close  to  mine.  His  moustachios  bristled, 
his  beard  trembled. 

'  Hark    ye,  sirrah ! '    he    muttered,   with   sullen 

emphasis,    '  be    content !    I    have   my   suspicions 

And  if  it  were  not  for  my  lady's  orders  I  would 

put  a    knife    into   you,   fair    or    foul,    this    very 

H 


114  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

night.  You  would  lie  snug  outside,  instead  of 
inside,  and  I  do  not  think  anyone  would  be 
the  worse.  But  as  it  is,  be  content.  Keep  a 
still  tongue  ;  and  when  you  turn  your  back  on 
Cocheforet  to-morrow  keep  it  turned.* 

'  Tut !  tut ! '  I  said — but  I  confess  that  I  was 
a  little  out  of  countenance.  'Threatened  men 
live  long,  you  rascal ! ' 

'In  Paris!'  he  answered  significantly.  'Not 
here,  Monsieur.' 

He  straightened  himself  with  that,  nodded 
once,  and  went  back  to  the  fire ;  and  I  shrugged 
my  shoulders  and  began  to  eat,  affecting  to  for- 
get his  presence.  The  logs  on  the  hearth 
burned  sullenly,  and  gave  no  light.  The  poor 
oil-lamp,  casting  weird  shadows  from  wall  to 
wall,  served  only  to  discover  the  darkness.  The 
room,  with  its  low  roof  and  earthen  floor,  and 
foul  clothes  flung  here  and  there,  reeked  of 
stale  meals  and  garlic  and  vile  cooking.  I 
thought  of  the  parlour  at  Cocheforet,  and  the 
dainty  table,  and  the  stillness,  and  the  scented 
pot-herbs ;   and    tliough    I    was  too  old   a   soldier 


REVENGE  1X5 

to  eat  the  worse  because  my  spoon  lacked 
washing,  I  felt  the  change,  and  laid  it  savagely 
at  Mademoiselle's  door. 

The  landlord,  watching  me  stealthily  from  his 
place  by  the  hearth,  read  my  thoughts  and 
chuckled    aloud. 

'  Palace  fare,  palace  manners ! '  he  muttered 
scornfully.  '  Set  a  beggar  on  horseback,  and 
he  will  ride — back  to  the  inn  ! ' 

'Keep  a  civil  tongue,  will  you!'  I  answered, 
scowling  at  him, 

*  Have  you  finished  ? '  he  retorted. 

I  rose,  without  deigning  to  reply,  and,  going 
to  the  fire,  drew  off"  my  boots,  which  were  wet 
through.  He,  on  the  instant,  swept  off  the  wine 
and  loaf  to  the  cupboard,  and  then,  coming 
back  for  the  platter  I  had  used,  took  it,  opened 
the  back  door,  and  went  out,  leaving  the  door 
ajar.  The  draught  which  came  in  beat  the  flame 
of  the  lamp  this  way  and  that,  and  gave  the 
<^i°gy)  gloomy  room  an  air  still  more  miserable. 
I  rose  angrily  from  the  fire,  and  went  to  the 
door,  intending  to  close  it  with  a  bang. 


ii6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

But  when  I  reached  it,  I  saw  something,  be- 
tween door  and  jamb,  which  stayed  my  hand. 
The  door  led  to  a  shed  in  which  the  housewife 
washed  pots  and  the  like.  I  felt  some  surprise, 
therefore,  when  I  found  a  light  there  at  this  time 
of  night;  still  more  surprise  when  I  saw  what 
she  was  doing. 

She  was  seated  on  the  mud  floor,  with  a  rush- 
light before  her,  and  on  either  side  of  her  a 
high  -  piled  heap  of  refuse  and  rubbish.  From 
one  of  these,  at  the  moment  I  caught  sight  of 
her,  she  was  sorting  things — horrible  filthy  sweep- 
ings of  road  or  floor — to  the  other;  shaking  and 
sifting  each  article  as  she  passed  it  across,  and 
then  taking  up  another  and  repeating  the  action 
with  it,  and  so  on — all  minutely,  warily,  with  an 
air  of  so  much  patience  and  persistence  that  I 
stood  wondering.  Some  things — rags — she  held 
up  between  her  eyes  and  the  light,  some  she 
passed  through  her  fingers,  some  she  fairly  tore 
in  pieces.  And  all  the  time  her  husband  stood 
watching  her  greedily,  my  platter  still  in  his 
hand,  as  if  her  strange  occupation  fascinated  htm. 


REVENGE  117 

I  stood  looking,  also,  for  half  a  minute,  per- 
haps ;  then  the  man's  eye,  raised  for  a  single 
second  to  the  doorway,  met  mine.  He  started, 
muttered  something  to  his  wife,  and,  quick  as 
thought,  he  kicked  the  light  out,  leaving  the  shed 
in  darkness.  Cursing  him  for  an  ill-conditioned 
fellow,  I  walked  back  to  the  fire,  laughing.  In  a 
twinkling  he  followed  me,  his  face  dark  with  rage. 

*  Ventre-saint-Gris !'  he  exclaimed,  thrusting  him- 
self close  to  me.     '  Is  not  a  man's  house  his  own  ? ' 

'  It  is,  for  me,'  I  answered  coolly,  shrugging  my 
shoulders.  '  And  his  wife :  if  she  likes  to  pick 
dirty  rags  at  this  hour,  that  is  your  affair.' 

*  Pig  of  a  spy ! '  he  cried,  foaming  with  rage. 

I  was  angry  enough  at  bottom,  but  I  had 
nothing  to  gain  by  quarrelling  with  the  fellow; 
and  I  curtly  bade  him  remember  himself. 

*  Your  mistress  gave  you  orders,'  I  said  con- 
temptuously.    '  Obey  them.' 

He  spat  on  the  floor,  but  at  the  same  time  he 
grew  calmer. 

'You  are  right  there,'  he  answered  spitefully. 
*  What  matter,  after  all,  since  you  leave  to-morrow 


ii8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

at  six  ?      Y;.;r  —    h?.?    :een    ^ent   dov/n,  and 

j^oor  bagj^^r  .-    .:     e.' 

'  I  will  go  to  it,'  I  retorted  '  I  want  none  of 
3roiir  company.     Give  me  a  light,  teiiow  ! ' 

He  obeyed  re'..;  ::r.:-.t:>-,  ir.r.,  r'sii  to  turn  my 
back  on  hirr:.  I  '.vent  \-p  the  ladder,  still  wonder- 
tns:  famtiv,  .:.  .  r  r.:zr.  c:  my  a"ic'.-a:".-e,  what 
his  wife  wa=  abcut  that  rr.y  chance  detection  of 
her  had  s?  erra^-eh  him,  Ever,  r:  /_ :  .•as  not 
quite  h:::-riL  He  foUovred  me  v::r.  a:ufe,  and, 
deprived  -_.■  my  departure  of  any  ;:n-r  means 
of  showing  his  5pi:e,  fell  to  shcuung  mrougb  the 
nooT,  bidding  m.e  r.mem'ier  six  o'clock,  and  be 
stirring;  with  ether  -aunt;,  .n::h  did  not  cease 
until  he  had  tir.n  ?:.?:. it. \  :.;:, 

The  sight  of  my  b..-.._,.ngs — vrnch  I  had  left 
a  few  hours  before  at  the  Chateau — strev.n  about 
the  n>3or  of  this  gaxre:.  v.ent  scm.s  v.ay  :  — :  '? 
firing  me  again.  But  I  was  worn  cut  The  in- 
dignities and  mishaps  of  the  evening  had,  for 
once,  crushed  my  spirit,  and  after  s.vearing  an 
oath  or  two  I  began  to  pack  my  bags.  Ven- 
geance I  would  have ;    but  the  time  and  manner 


REVZ.'OE  119 

I  left  for  daylight  t/.i-ght.  Eey:r.d  six  o'clock 
in  the  morning  I  z'.z  :::t  ':^k  ':rv.;r;;  h:.z  if 
I  longed  for  anything  it  -.vas  for  a  litti-  :f  :'r.t 
^::-  -.rn.igna:    I    i.i-      b.-:--  nose  louts  of 

merchants  in  the  i-ntin.  .  ir  iv.  It  might  have 
done  me  good  now. 

I  had  wearily  strapped  up  one  bag.  and  neariy 
filled  the  other,  when  I  came  upon  something 
which  did,  for  the  moment,  rouse  the  devil  in  me. 
This  was  the  tiny  orange-coloured  sachet  vrnich 
Mademoiselle  had  dropped  the  night  I  nrst  saw 
her  at  the  inn,  and  which,  it  v.iii  zt  :r"-n-.:c:ti, 
I  picked  up.  Since  that  r.  -:ht  I  '/.zz  zz:  seen 
it,  and  had  a.3  good  cs  :hrg:::cn  :i  .N:-,v,  a.s  I 
folded  up  my  other  doublet,  the  cne  I  had  ihcn 
been    .vearing,   it   droppe:     '.    rn    my    ;_;:_:;:. 

The  sight  of  it  recr.  :i  -  .  —  ...z-  :z.-^'r.t,  and 
Mademoiselle's  face  in  the  lantern  1  ghr,  and  my 
nne  plans,  and  the  end  of  them  ;  and,  in  a  nt 
of  childish  fury,  the  outcome  of  long  ^upcressed 
passion,  I  snatched  up  the  -^:het  h  :  m  the 
floor  and  tore  it  across  and  across,  and  rl-ing 
the  pieces  down.     A--    ,.  -./   fell,   a   c'. :w.d   of  dne 


I20  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

pungent  dust  burst  from  them,  and  with  the 
dust,  something  more  solid,  which  tinkled  sharply 
on  the  boards,  as  it  fell,  I  looked  down  to  see 
what  this  was — perhaps  I  already  repented  of 
my  act ;  but  for  a  moment  I  could  see  nothing. 
The  floor  was  grimy  and  uninviting,  the  light 
bad. 

In  certain  moods,  however,  a  man  is  obstinate 
about  small  things,  and  I  moved  the  taper 
nearer.  As  I  did  so  a  point  of  light,  a  flashing 
sparkle  that  shone  for  a  second  among  the  dirt 
and  refuse  on  the  floor,  caught  my  eye.  It  was 
gone  in  a  moment,  but  I  had  seen  it.  I  stared, 
and  moved  the  light  again,  and  the  spark  flashed 
out  afresh,  this  time  in  a  different  place.  Much 
puzzled,  I  knelt,  and,  in  a  twinkling,  found  a  tiny 
crystal.  Hard  by  it  lay  another — and  another ; 
each  as  large  as  a  fair-sized  pea.  I  took  up 
the  three,  and  rose  to  my  feet  again,  the  light 
ill  one  hand,  the  crystals  in  the  palm  of  the 
other. 

They  were  diamonds  !  Diamonds  of  price  I  I 
knew  it  in  a  moment.     As  I  moved  the  taper  to 


REVENGE  121 

and  fro  above  them,  and  watched  the  fire  glow 
and  tremble  in  their  depths,  I  knew  that  I  held 
in  my  hand  that  which  would  buy  the  crazy  inn 
and  all  its  contents  a  dozen  times  over!  They 
were  diamonds !  Gems  so  fine,  and  of  so  rare 
a  water — or  I  had  never  seen  gems — that  my 
hand  trembled  as  I  held  them,  and  my  head 
grew  hot  and  my  heart  beat  furiously.  For  a 
moment  I  thought  that  I  dreamed,  that  my  fancy 
played  me  some  trick ;  and  I  closed  my  eyes 
and  did  not  open  them  again  for  a  minute. 
But  when  I  did,  there  they  were,  hard,  real, 
and  angular.  Convinced  at  last,  in  a  maze  of 
joy  and  fear,  I  closed  my  hand  upon  them, 
and,  stealing  on  tip-toe  to  the  trap-door,  laid 
first  my  saddle  on  it  and  then  my  bags,  and 
over  all  my  cloak,  breathing  fast  the  while. 

Then  I  stole  back,  and,  taking  up  the  light 
again,  began  to  search  the  floor,  patiently,  inch 
by  inch,  with  naked  feet,  every  sound  making 
me  tremble  as  I  crept  hither  and  thither  over 
the  creaking  boards.  And  never  was  search 
more  successful  or  better  paid.     In  the  fragments 


122  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBB 

of  the  sachet  I  found  six  smaller  diamonds  and 
and  a  pair  of  rubies.  Eight  large  diamonds  I 
found  on  the  floor.  One,  the  largest  and  last 
found,  had  bounded  away,  and  lay  against  the 
wall  in  the  farthest  corner.  It  took  me  an 
hour  to  run  that  one  to  earth ;  but  afterwards 
I  spent  another  hour  on  my  hands  and  knees 
before  I  gave  up  the  search,  and,  satisfied  at 
last  that  I  had  collected  all,  sat  down  on  my 
saddle  on  the  trap-door,  and,  by  the  last  flicker- 
ing light  of  a  candle  which  I  had  taken  from 
my  bag,  gloated  over  my  treasure  —  a  treasure 
worthy  of  fabled  Golconda. 

Hardly  could  I  believe  in  its  reality,  even 
now.  Recalling  the  jewels  which  the  English 
Duke  of  Buckingham  wore  on  the  occasion 
of  his  visit  to  Paris  in  1625,  and  whereof 
there  was  so  much  talk,  I  took  these  to  be 
as  fine,  though  less  in  number.  They  should 
be  worth  fifteen  thousand  crowns,  more  or  less. 
Fifteen  thousand  crowns !  And  I  held  them 
in  the  hollow  of  my  hand — I,  who  was  scarcely 
worth  ten   thousand   sous. 


REVENGE  123 

The  candle  going  out  cut  short  my  admira- 
tion. Left  in  the  dark  with  these  precious 
atoms,  my  first  thought  was  how  I  might 
dispose  of  them  safely ;  which  I  did,  for  the 
time,  by  secreting  them  in  the  lining  of  my 
boot.  My  second  thought  turned  on  the  ques- 
tion how  they  had  come  where  I  had  found 
them,  among  the  powdered  spice  and  perfumes 
in  Mademoiselle  de  Cocheforet's  sachet. 

A  minute's  reflection  enabled  me  to  come 
very  near  the  secret,  and  at  the  same  time 
shed  a  flood  of  light  on  several  dark  places. 
What  Clon  had  been  seeking  on  the  path 
between  the  house  and  the  village,  what  the 
goodwife  of  the  inn  had  sought  among  the 
sweepings  of  yard  and  floor,  I  knew  now — the 
sachet.  I  knew,  too,  what  had  caused  the 
marked  and  sudden  anxiety  I  had  noticed  at 
the  Chateau — the  loss  of  this  sachet. 

And  there  for  a  while  I  came  to  a  check. 
But  one  step  more  up  the  ladder  of  thought 
brought  all  in  view.  In  a  flash  I  guessed  how 
the  jewels   had   come   to  be  in  the  sachet ;  and 


124  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

that  it  was  not  Mademoiselle  but  M.  de 
Cocheforet  who  had  mislaid  them.  I  thought 
this  last  discovery  so  important  that  I  began 
to  pace  the  room  softly,  unable,  in  my  excite- 
ment, to  remain  still. 

Doubtless  he  had  dropped  the  jewels  in  the 
hurry  of  his  start  from  the  inn  that  night! 
Doubtless,  too,  he  had  carried  them  in  that 
bizarre  hiding-place  for  the  sake  of  safety,  con- 
sidering it  unlikely  that  robbers,  if  he  fell  into 
their  hands,  would  take  the  sachet  from  him  ; 
as  still  less  likely  that  they  would  suspect  it  to 
contain  anything  of  value.  Everywhere  it 
would  pass  for  a  love-gift,  the  work  of  his 
mistress. 

Nor  did  my  penetration  stop  there,  I  guessed 
that  the  gems  were  family  property,  the  last 
treasure  of  the  house  ;  and  that  M.  de  Cocheforet, 
when  I  saw  him  at  the  inn,  was  on  his  way 
to  convey  them  out  of  the  country ;  either  to 
secure  them  from  seizure  by  the  Government, 
or  to  raise  money  by  selling  them — money  to 
be    spent     in     some    last     desperate     enterprise. 


REVENGE  12$ 

For  a  day  or  two,  perhaps,  after  leaving 
Cocheforet,  while  the  mountain  road  and  its 
chances  occupied  his  thoughts,  he  had  not 
discovered  his  loss.  Then  he  had  searched  for 
the  precious  sachet,  missed  it,  and  returned  hot- 
foot on  his  tracks. 

The  longer  I  considered  the  circumstances  the 
more  certain  I  was  that  I  had  hit  on  the  true 
solution ;  and  all  that  night  I  sat  wakeful  in  the 
darkness,  pondering  what  I  should  do.  The 
stones,  unset  as  they  were,  could  never  be 
identified,  never  be  claimed.  The  channel  by 
which  they  had  come  to  my  hands  could  never 
be  traced.  To  all  intents  they  were  mine ;  mine, 
to  do  with  as  I  pleased !  Fifteen  thousand 
crowns,  perhaps  twenty  thousand  crowns,  and 
I  to  leave  at  six  in  the  morning,  whether  I 
would  or  no !  I  might  leave  for  Spain  with  the 
jewels  in  my  pocket.     Why  not  ? 

I  confess  I  was  tempted.  And  indeed  the  gems 
were  so  fine  that  I  doubt  not  some  indifferently 
honest  men  would  have  sold  salvation  for  them. 
But — a  Berault  his  honour  ?     No.     I  was  tempted, 


126  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  say  ;  but  not  for  long.  Thank  God,  a  man 
may  be  reduced  to  living  by  the  fortunes  of 
the  dice,  and  may  even  be  called  by  a  woman 
'spy'  and  'coward,'  without  becoming  a  thief! 
The  temptation  soon  left  me — I  take  credit 
for  it — and  I  fell  to  thinking  of  this  and  that 
plan  for  making  use  of  them.  Once  it  occurred 
to  me  to  take  the  jewels  to  the  Cardinal  and 
buy  my  pardon  with  them ;  again,  to  use  them 
as  a  trap  to  capture  Cocheforet ;  again,  to — 
and  then,  about  five  in  the  morning,  as  I  sat 
up  on  my  wretched  pallet,  while  the  first 
light  stole  slowly  in  through  the  cobwebbed, 
hay-stuffed  lattice,  there  came  to  me  the  real 
plan,  the  plan  of  plans,  on  which  I  acted. 

It  charmed  me.  I  smacked  my  lips  over 
it,  and  hugged  myself,  and  felt  my  eyes 
dilate  in  the  darkness,  as  I  conned  it.  It 
seemed  cruel,  it  seemed  mean ;  I  cared  no- 
thing. Mademoiselle  had  boasted  of  her  victory 
over  me,  of  her  woman's  wits  and  her  acute- 
ness;  and  of  my  dulness.  She  had  said  that 
her    grooms    should    flog    me.       She    had    rated 


REVENGE  137 

me  as  if  I  had  been  a  dog.  Very  well ;  we 
would  see  now  whose  brains  were  the  better, 
whose  was  the  master  mind,  whose  should  be 
the  v/hipping. 

The  one  thing  required  by  my  plan  was 
that  I  should  get  speech  with  her ;  that  done, 
I  could  trust  myself  and  my  new-found  weapon 
for  the  rest.  But  that  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary, and,  seeing  that  there  might  be  some 
difficulty  about  it,  I  determined  to  descend  as 
if  my  mind  were  made  up  to  go ;  then,  on 
pretence  of  saddling  my  horse,  I  would  slip 
away  on  foot,  and  lie  in  wait  near  the  Chateau 
until  I  saw  her  come  out.  Or  if  I  could  not 
effect  my  purpose  in  that  way  —  either  by 
reason  of  the  landlord's  vigilance,  or  for  any 
other  cause — my  course  was  still  easy.  I  would 
ride  away,  and  when  1  had  proceeded  a  mile 
or  so,  tie  up  my  horse  in  the  forest  and 
return  to  the  wooden  bridge.  Thence  I  could 
watch  the  garden  and  front  of  the  Chateau 
until  time  and  chance  gave  me  the  oppor- 
tunity   I    sought 


128  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

So  I  saw  my  way  quite  clearly;  and  when 
the  fellow  below  called  me,  reminding  me 
rudely  that  I  must  be  going,  and  that  it  was 
six  o'clock,  I  was  ready  with  my  answer.  I 
shouted  sulkily  that  I  was  coming,  and,  after 
a  decent  delay,  I  took  up  my  saddle  and  bags 
and  went  down. 

Viewed  by  the  light  of  a  cold  morning,  the  inn 
room  looked  more  smoky,  more  grimy,  more 
wretched  than  when  I  had  last  seen  it  The 
goodwife  was  not  visible.  The  fire  was  not 
lighted.  No  provision,  not  so  much  as  a  stirrup- 
cup  or  bowl  of  porridge  cheered  the  heart. 

I    looked    round,    sniffing    the    stale    smell    of 
last  night's  lamp,  and  grunted. 

*  Are   you    going   to   send    me   out  fasting  ? '  I 
said,  affecting  a  worse  humour  than  I  felt. 

The  landlord  was  standing  by  the  window, 
stooping  over  a  great  pair  of  frayed  and 
furrowed  thigh-boots  which  he  was  labouring 
to  soften  with  copious  grease. 

'  Mademoiselle  ordered  no  breakfast,'  he  an- 
swered, with  a  malicious  grin. 


OUTSIUK   THE   DOOK,    IN    THE    RoAD,    SITTING   ON    HORSEBACK    IN    SiLENCE, 

WEKE  TWO  Men. 


REVENGE  X29 

•Well,  it  does  not  much  matter/  I  replied 
grandly.     '  I  shall  be  at  Auch  by  noon.' 

'That  is  as  may  be,'  he  answered  with 
another  grin. 

I  did  not  understand  him,  but  I  had 
something  else  to  think  about,  and  I  opened 
the  door  and  stepped  out,  intending  to  go 
to  the  stable.  Then  in  a  second  I  compre- 
hended. The  cold  air  laden  with  woodland 
moisture  met  me  and  went  to  my  bones ;  but 
it  was  not  that  which  made  me  shiver.  Out- 
side the  door,  in  the  road,  sitting  on  horseback 
in  silence,  were  two  men.  One  was  Clon.  The 
other,  who  held  a  spare  horse  by  the  rein — my 
horse  —  was  a  man  I  had  seen  at  the  inn,  a 
rough,  shock-headed,  hard-bitten  fellow.  Both 
were  armed,  and  Clon  was  booted.  His  mate  rode 
barefoot,  with  a  rusty  spur  strapped  to  one  heel. 

The  moment  I  saw  them  a  sure  and  certain 
fear  crept  into  my  mind :  it  was  that  which 
made  me  shiver.  But  I  did  not  speak  to  them. 
I  went  in  again  and  closed  the  door  behind 
me.     The  landlord  was  putting  on  his  boots. 


I30  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBB 

'  What  does  this  mean  ? '  I  said  hoarsely — 
though  I  had  a  clear  prescience  of  what  was 
coming.     '  Why  are  these  men  here  ? ' 

'  Orders,'  he  answered  laconically. 

*  Whose  orders  ? '  I  retorted. 

'Whose?'  he  answered  bluntly.  'Well,  Mon- 
sieur, that  is  my  business.  Enough  that  we 
mean  to  see  you  out  of  the  country,  and  out 
of  harm's  way.' 

'  But  if  I  will  not  go  ? '  I  cried. 

'  Monsieur  will  go,'  he  answered  coolly.  *  There 
are  no  strangers  in  the  village  to-day,'  he  added, 
with  a  significant  smile. 

'  Do  you  mean  to  kidnap  me  ? '  I  replied,  in 
a  rage. 

But  behind  the  rage  was  something  else — I  will 
not  call  it  terror,  for  the  brave  feel  no  terror — but 
it  was  near  akin  to  it.  I  had  had  to  do  with 
rough  men  all  my  life,  but  there  was  a  grimness 
and  truculence  in  the  aspect  of  these  three 
that  shook  me.  When  I  thought  of  the  dark 
paths  and  narrow  lanes  and  cliff  sides  we  must 
traverse    whichever  road  we  took,  I  trembled. 


REVENGE  131 

'  Kidnap  you,  Monsieur  ? '  he  answered,  with 
an  every-day  air.  'That  is  as  you  please  to 
call  it.  One  thing  is  certain,  however/  he  con- 
tinued, maliciously  touching  an  arquebuss  which 
he  had  brought  out,  and  set  upright  against  a 
chair  while  I  was  at  the  door  ;  *  if  you  attempt 
the  slightest  resistance,  we  shall  know  how 
to  put  an  end  to  it,  either  here  or  on  the 
road.' 

I  drew  a  deep  breath,  the  very  imminence 
of  the  danger  restoring  me  to  the  use  of  my 
faculties.     I  changed  my  tone  and  laughed  aloud. 

*  So  that  is  your  plan,  is  it  ? '  I  said.  '  The 
sooner  we  start  the  better,  then.  And  the 
sooner  I  see  Auch  and  your  back  turned,  the 
more  I  shall  be  pleased.' 

He  rose.     *  After  you,  Monsieur,'  he  said. 

I  could  not  restrain  a  slight  shiver.  His  new- 
born politeness  alarmed  me  more  than  his 
threats.  I  knew  the  man  and  his  ways,  and 
I  was  sure  that  it  boded  ill  to  me. 

But  I  had  no  pistols,  and  only  my  sword 
and   knife,   and    I    knew   that    resistance   at   this 


132  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

point  must  be  worse  than  vain.  I  went  out 
jauntily,  therefore,  the  landlord  coming  after  me 
with  my  saddle  and  bags. 

The  street  was  empty,  save  for  the  two  wait- 
ing horsemen  who  sat  in  their  saddles  looking 
doggedly  before  them.  The  sun  had  not  yet 
risen,  the  air  was  raw.  The  sky  was  grey, 
cloudy,  and  cold.  My  thoughts  flew  back  to 
the  morning  on  which  I  had  found  the  sachet — 
at  that  very  spot,  almost  at  that  very  hour  ;  and 
for  a  moment  I  grew  warm  again  at  the  thought 
of  the  little  packet  I  carried  in  my  boot.  But 
the  landlord's  dry  manner,  the  sullen  silence  of 
his  two  companions,  whose  eyes  steadily  refused 
to  meet  mine,  chilled  me  again.  For  an  instant 
the  impulse  to  refuse  to  mount,  to  refuse  to  go, 
was  almost  irresistible  ;  then,  knowing  the  madness 
of  such  a  course,  which  might,  and  probably 
would,  give  the  men  the  chance  they  desired,  I 
crushed  it  down  and  went  slowly  to  my  stirrup. 

'  I  wonder  you  do  not  want  my  sword,'  I  said 
by  way  of  sarcasm,  as   I   swung  myself  up. 

*  Wc     arc     not     afraid    of    it,'    the    innkeeper 


REVENGE  133 

answered  gravely.  'You  may  keep  it — for  the 
present,' 

I  made  no  answer — what  answer  had  I  to 
make? — and  we  rode  at  a  footpace  down  the 
street ;  he  and  I  leading,  Clon  and  the  shock- 
headed  man  bringing  up  the  rear.  The  leisurely 
mode  of  our  departure,  the  absence  of  hurry  or 
even  haste,  the  men's  indifference  whether  they 
were  seen,  or  what  was  thought,  all  served  to 
sink  my  spirits  and  deepen  my  sense  of  peril. 
I  felt  that  they  suspected  me,  that  they  more 
than  half  guessed  the  nature  of  my  errand  at 
Cocheforet,  and  that  they  were  not  minded  to 
be  bound  by  Mademoiselle's  orders.  In  par- 
ticular, I  augured  the  worst  from  Clon's  appear- 
ance. His  lean  malevolent  face  and  sunken 
eyes,  his  very  dumbness  chilled  me.  Mercy  had 
no  place  there. 

We  rode  soberly,  so  that  nearly  half  an  hour 
elapsed  before  we  gained  the  brow  from  which  I 
had  taken  my  first  look  at  Cocheforet.  Among 
the  dwarf  oaks  whence  I  had  viewed  the  valley 
we  paused  to  breathe  our  horses,  and  the  strange 


134  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

feelings  with  which  I  looked  back  on  the  scene 
may  be  imagined.  But  I  had  short  time  for 
indulging  in  sentiment  or  recollections.  A  curt 
word,  and  we  were  moving  again. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  on,  the  road  to 
Auch  dipped  into  the  valley.  When  we  were 
already  half  way  down  this  descent  the  innkeeper 
suddenly  stretched  out  his  hand  and  caught  my 
rein. 

'  This  way  1 '  he  said. 

I  saw  that  he  would  have  me  turn  into  a  by-path 
leading  south-westwards — a  mere  track,  faint  and 
little  trodden  and  encroached  on  by  trees,  which 
led  I  knew  not  whither.     I  checked  my  horse. 

'  Why  ? '  I  said  rebelliously.  '  Do  you  think  I 
do  not  know  the  road  ?  The  road  we  are  in  is 
the  way  to  Auch.' 

*  To  Auch — yes,'  he  answered  bluntly.  '  But 
we  are  not  going  to  Auch.' 

*  Whither  then  ? '   I  said  angrily, 

'You   will    see   presently,'   he   replied    with    an 
ugly  smile. 
'  Yes,  but  I  will  know  now  ! '   I  retorted,  passion 


REVENGE  135 

getting  the  better  of  me.     '  I  have  come   so  far 
with  you.     You  will   find   it   more   easy  to   take 
me  farther  if  you  tell  me  your  plans.' 
'  You  are  a  fool ! '  he  cried  with  a  snarl. 

*  Not   so,'  I   answered.      *  I   ask   only   to  know 
whither  I  am  going.' 

'  Into  Spain,'  he  said.     •  Will  that  satisfy  you  ? ' 

*  And  what  will  you  do  with  me  there  ? '  I 
asked,  my  heart  giving  a  great  bound. 

'  Hand  you  over  to  some  friends  of  ours,'  he 
answered  curtly,  *if  you  behave  yourself  If 
not,  there  is  a  shorter  way,  and  one  that  will 
save  us  some  travelling.  Make  up  your  mind, 
Monsieur.     Which  shall  it  be?' 


CHAPTER    VI 

UNDER   THE   PIC  DU    MIDI 

OO  that  was  their  plan.  Two  or  three  hours 
to  the  southward,  the  long,  white,  glitter- 
ing wall  stretched  east  and  west  above  the 
brown  woods.  Beyond  that  lay  Spain.  Once 
across  the  border,  I  might  be  detained,  if  no 
worse  happened  to  me,  as  a  prisoner  of  war ; 
for  we  were  then  at  war  with  Spain  on  the 
Italian  side.  Or  I  might  be  handed  over 
to  one  of  the  savage  bands,  half  smugglers, 
half  brigands,  that  held  the  passes ;  or  be 
delivered,  worse  fate  of  all,  into  the  power  of 
the  French  exiles,  of  whom  some  would  be 
likely  to  recognise  me  and  cut  my  throat. 

•  It  is  a  long  way  into  Spain,'  I  muttered,  watching 
in  a  kind  of  fascination  Clon  handling  his  pistols. 

'  I   think   you   will    find  the  other  road  longer 

136 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  137 

still,  the  landlord  answered  grimly.  'But 
choose,  and  be  quick  about  it.' 

They  were  three  to  one,  and  they  had  fire- 
arms.    In  effect  I  had  no  choice. 

'Well,  if  I  must  I  must?'  I  cried,  making 
up  my  mind  with  seeming  recklessness.  'Vogue 
la  galere !  Spain  be  it.  It  will  not  be  the 
first  time  I  have  heard  the  dons  talk.' 

The  men  nodded,  as  much  as  to  say  that 
they  had  known  what  the  end  would  be; 
the  landlord  released  my  rein  ;  and  in  a  trice 
we  were  riding  down  the  narrow  track,  with 
our  faces  set  towards  the  mountains. 

On  one  point  my  mind  v/as  now  more  easy. 
The  men  meant  fairly  by  me,  and  I  had  no 
longer  to  fear,  as  I  had  feared,  a  pistol-shot  in 
the  back  at  the  first  convenient  ravine.  As  far 
as  that  went,  I  might  ride  in  peace.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  I  let  them  carry  me  across  the 
border  my  fate  was  sealed.  A  man  set  down 
w^ithout  credentials  or  guards  among  the  wild 
desperadoes  who  swarmed  in  war-time  in  the 
Asturian  passes  might  consider  himself  fortunate  if 


138  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

an  easy  death  fell  to  his  lot.  In  my  case  I  could 
make  a  shrewd  guess  what  would  happen.  A  single 
nod  of  meaning,  one  muttered  word,  dropped 
among  the  savage  men  with  whom  I  should  be 
left,  and  the  diamonds  hidden  in  my  boot  would 
go  neither  to  the  Cardinal  nor  back  to  Mademoiselle 
— nor  would  it  matter  to  me  whither  they  went. 

So  while  the  others  talked  in  their  taciturn 
fashion,  or  sometimes  grinned  at  my  gloomy 
face,  I  looked  out  over  the  brown  woods  with 
eyes  that  saw  yet  did  not  see.  The  red 
squirrel  swarming  up  the  trunk,  the  startled 
pigs  that  rushed  away  grunting  from  their  feast 
of  mast,  the  solitary  rider  who  met  us,  armed 
to  the  teeth,  and  passed  northwards  after  whis- 
pering with  the  landlord — all  these  I  saw.  But 
my  mind  was  not  with  them.  It  was  groping 
and  feeling  about  like  a  hunted  mole  for  some 
way  of  escape.  For  time  pressed.  The  slope 
we  were  on  was  growing  steeper.  By-and-by 
we  fell  into  a  southward  valley,  and  began  to 
follow  it  steadily  upwards,  crossing  and  recross- 
ing  a  swiftly  rushing    stream.     The    snow    peaks 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  139 

began  to  be  hidden  behind  the  rising  bulk  of 
nills  that  overhung  us,  and  sometimes  we  could 
see  nothing  before  or  behind  but  the  wooded 
walls  of  our  valley  rising  sheer  and  green  a 
thousand  paces  high  on  either  hand  ;  with  grey 
rocks  half  masked  by  fern  and  ivy  jutting  here 
and  there  through  the  firs  and  alders. 

It  was  a  wild  and  sombre  scene  even  at  that 
hour,  with  the  mid-day  sun  shining  on  the  rush- 
ing water  and  drawing  the  scent  out  of  the 
pines ;  but  I  knew  that  there  was  worse  to 
come,  and  sought  desperately  for  some  ruse  by 
which  I  might  at  least  separate  the  men.  Three 
were  too  many ;  with  one  I  might  deal.  At  last, 
when  I  had  cudgelled  my  brain  for  an  hour, 
and  almost  resigned  myself  to  a  sudden  charge 
on  the  men  single-handed — a  last  desperate  resort 
— I  thought  of  a  plan  :  dangerous,  too,  and  almost 
desperate,  but  which  still  seemed  to  promise  some- 
thing. It  came  of  my  fingers  resting,  as  they  lay 
in  my  pocket,  on  the  fragments  of  the  orange 
sachet ;  which,  without  having  any  particular  de- 
sign in  my  mind^  I  had  taken  care  to  bring  with 


140  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

me.  1  had  torn  the  sachet  into  four  pieces — four 
corners.  As  I  played  mechanically  with  them, 
one  of  my  fingers  fitted  into  one,  as  into  a  glove  ; 
a  second  finger  into  another.     And  the  plan  came. 

Before  I  could  move  in  it,  however,  I  had  to 
wait  until  we  stopped  to  bait  the  flagging  horses, 
which  we  did  about  noon  at  the  head  of  the 
valley.  Then,  pretending  to  drink  from  the 
stream,  I  managed  to  secure  unseen  a  handful  of 
pebbles,  slipping  them  into  the  same  pocket  with 
the  morsels  of  stuff.  On  getting  to  horse  again, 
I  carefully  fitted  a  pebble,  not  too  tightly,  into 
the  largest  scrap,  and  made  ready  for  the  attempt. 

The  landlord  rode  on  my  left,  abreast  of  me; 
the  other  two  knaves  behind.  The  road  at  this 
stage  favoured  me,  for  the  valley,  which  drained 
the  bare  uplands  that  lay  between  the  lower 
hills  and  the  base  of  the  real  mountains,  had 
become  v/ide  and  shallow.  Here  were  no  trees, 
and  the  path  was  a  mere  sheep-track  covered 
with  short,  crisp  grass,  and  running  sometimes 
on  this  bank  of  the  stream  and  sometimes  on  that. 

I  waited  until  the  ruffian  beside  me  turned  to 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  141 

speak  to  the  men  behind.  The  moment  he  did 
so,  and  his  eyes  were  averted,  I  slipped  out  the 
scrap  of  satin  in  which  I  had  placed  the  pebble, 
and  balancing  it  carefully  on  my  right  thigh  as 
I  rode,  I  flipped  it  forward  with  all  the  strength 
of  my  thumb  and  finger.  I  meant  it  to  fall  a  few 
paces  before  us  in  the  path,  where  it  could  be  seen. 
But  alas  for  my  hopes  !  At  the  critical  moment  my 
horse  started,  my  finger  struck  the  scrap  aslant, 
the  pebble  flew  out,  and  the  bit  of  stuff  fluttered  into 
a  whin-bush  close  to  my  stirrup — and  was  lost ! 

I  was  bitterly  disappointed,  for  the  same  thing 
might  happen  again,  and  I  had  now  only  three 
scraps  left.  But  fortune  favoured  me,  by  putting 
it  into  my  neighbour's  head  to  plunge  into  a  hot 
debate  with  the  shock-headed  man  on  the  nature 
of  some  animals  seen  on  a  distant  brow ;  which 
he  said  were  izards,  while  the  other  maintained 
that  they  were  common  goats.  He  continued,  on 
this  account,  to  ride  with  his  face  turned  from 
me,  and  I  had  time  to  fit  another  pebble  into 
the  second  piece  of  stuff.  Sliding  it  on  to  my 
thigh,  I  poised  it,  and  flipped  it 


14*  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBS 

This  time  my  finger  struck  the  tiny  missile 
fairly  in  the  middle,  and  shot  it  so  far  and  so 
truly  that  it  dropped  exactly  in  the  path  ten 
paces  in  front  of  us.  The  moment  I  saw  it  fall 
I  kicked  my  neighbour's  nag  in  the  ribs ;  it 
started,  and  he,  turning  in  a  rage,  hit  it.  The 
next  instant  he  pulled  it  almost  on  to  its  haunches. 

'  Saint  Gris  ! '  he  cried ;  and  sat  glaring  at  the 
bit  of  yellow  satin,  with  his  face  turned  purple 
and  his  jaw  fallen. 

'What  is  it!'  I  said,  staring  at  him  in 
turn.     '  What  is  the  matter,  fool  ? ' 

'Matter?'  he   blurted   out.     '  Mon   Dieu!' 

But  Clon's  excitement  surpassed  even  his. 
The  dumb  man  no  sooner  saw  what  had  at- 
tracted his  comrade's  attention,  than  he  uttered 
an  inarticulate  and  horrible  noise,  and  tumbl- 
ing off  his  horse,  more  like  a  beast  than  a  man, 
threw  himself  bodily  on  the  precious  morsel. 

The  innkeeper  was  not  far  behind  him.  An 
instant  and  he  was  down,  too,  peering  at 
the  thing;  and  for  an  instant  I  thought 
that     they     would     fight     over     it.      However. 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  143 

though  their  jealousy  was  evident,  their  ex- 
citement cooled  a  little  when  they  discovered 
that  the  scrap  of  stuftf  was  empty;  for, 
fortunately,  the  pebble  had  fallen  out  of  it 
Still,  it  threw  them  into  such  a  fever  of 
eagerness  as  it  was  wonderful  to  witness. 
They  nosed  the  ground  where  it  had  lain, 
they  plucked  up  the  grass  and  turf,  and 
passed  it  through  their  fingers,  they  ran  to 
and  fro  like  dogs  on  a  trail  ;  and,  glancing 
askance  at  one  another,  came  back  always  to- 
gether to  the  point  of  departure.  Neither  in  his 
jealousy  would  suffer  the  other  to  be  there  alone. 
The  shock-headed  man  and  I  sat  our 
horses  and  looked  on ;  he  marvelling,  and 
I  pretending  to  marvel.  As  the  two  searched 
up  and  down  the  path,  we  moved  a  little 
out  of  it  to  give  them  space;  and  pre- 
sently, when  all  their  heads  were  turned  from 
me,  I  let  a  second  morsel  drop  under  a 
gorse-bush.  The  shock-headed  man,  by-and- 
by,  found  this,  and  gave  it  to  Clon  ;  and 
as    from    the    circumstances    of    the    first    dis- 


144  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

covery  no  suspicion  attached  to  ine,  I 
ventured  to  find  the  third  and  last  scrap 
myself.  I  did  not  pick  it  up,  but  I  called 
the  innkeeper,  and  he  pounced  upon  it  as 
I    have   seen    a   hawk    pounce   on   a   chicken. 

They  hunted  for  the  fourth  morsel,  but,  of 
course,  in  vain,  and  in  the  end  they  desisted, 
and  fitted  the  three  they  had  together;  but 
neither  would  let  his  own  portion  out  of  his 
hands,  and  each  looked  at  the  other  across 
the  spoil  with  eyes  of  suspicion.  It  was 
strange  to  see  them  in  that  wide-stretching 
valley,  whence  grey  boar-backs  of  hills  swelled 
up  into  the  silence  of  the  snow  —  it  was 
strange,  I  say,  in  that  vast  solitude,  to  see 
these  two,  mere  dots  on  its  bosom,  circling 
round  one  another  in  fierce  forgetfulness  of 
the  outside  world,  glaring  and  shifting  their 
ground  like  cocks  about  to  engage,  and  wholly 
engrossed  —  by  three  scraps  of  orange-colour, 
invisible  at  fifty  paces ! 

At  last  the  innkeeper  cried  with  an  oath, 
'  1     am     going     back.       This     must     be    known 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  143 

down  yonder.  Give  me  your  pieces,  man,  and 
do  you  go  on  with  Antoine.     It  will  be  all  right' 

But  Clon,  waving  a  scrap  of  the  stuff  in 
either  hand,  and  thrusting  his  ghastly  mask 
into  the  other's  face,  shook  his  head  in  passion- 
ate denial.  He  could  not  speak,  but  he  made 
it  as  clear  as  daylight  that  if  anyone  went 
back  with  the  news,  he  was  the  man  to  go. 

'  Nonsense ! '  the  landlord  rejoined  fiercely. 
*\Ve  cannot  leave  Antoine  to  go  on  alone 
with   him.     Give   me   the   stuff.' 

But   Clon   would    not.      He    had    no    thought 

of   resigning    the   credit   of   the    discovery ;    and 

I    began    to    think    that    the    two   would    really 

come   to   blows.      But    there   was   an    alternative 

—  an    alternative    in    which    I    was    concerned ; 

and   first    one    and    then    the    other    looked    at 

me.      It  was   a    moment    of    peril,   and    I    knew 

it      My   stratagem   might    react   on   myself,   and 

the  two,  to  put  an  end  to  their  difficulty,  agree 

to   put   an   end   to   me.      But    I    faced    them    so 

coolly,   and    showed    so    bold    a    front,   and    the 

ground  where   we   stood   was   so   open,   that   the 

K 


146  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

idea  took  no  root.  They  fell  to  wrangling  again 
more  viciously  than  before.  One  tapped  his  gun 
and  the  other  his  pistols.  The  landlord  scolded, 
the  dumb  man  gurgled.  At  last  their  differ- 
ence ended  as  I  had  hoped  it  would. 

'  Very  well  then,  we  will  both  go  back  ! '  the 
innkeeper  cried  in  a  rage.  '  And  Antoine 
must  see  him  on.  But  the  blame  be  on  your 
head.     Do  you  give  the  lad  your  pistols.' 

Clon  took  one  pistol,  and  gave  it  to  the 
shock-headed  man. 

'  The  other ! '  the  innkeeper  said  impatiently. 

But  Clon  shook  his  head  with  a  grim  smile, 
and  pointed  to  the  arquebuss. 

By  a  sudden  movement,  the  landlord  snatched 
the  pistol,  and  averted  Clon's  vengeance  by 
placing  both  it  and  the  gun  in  the  shock- 
headed    man's   hands. 

'  There ! '  he  said,  addressing  the  latter,  '  now  can 
you  do  ?  If  Monsieur  tries  to  escape  or  turn  back, 
shoot  him  !  But  four  hours'  riding  should  bring 
you  to  the  Roca  Blanca.  You  will  find  the  men 
there,  and  will  have  no  more  to  do  with  it' 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  147 

Antoine  did  not  see  things  quite  in  that 
h'ght,  however.  He  looked  at  me,  and  then  at 
the  wild  track  in  front  of  us ;  and  he  muttered 
an  oath  and  said  he  would  die  if  he  would. 

But  the  landlord,  who  was  in  a  frenzy  of 
impatience,  drew  him  aside  and  talked  to  him, 
and  in  the  end  seemed  to  persuade  him ;  for 
in  a  few  minutes  the  matter  was  settled. 

Antoine  came  back,  and  said  sullenly,  'For- 
ward, Monsieur,'  the  two  others  stood  on  one 
side,  I  shrugged  my  shoulders  and  kicked  up 
my  horse,  and  in  a  twinkling  we  two  were 
riding  on  together — man  to  man.  I  turned 
once  or  twice  to  see  what  those  we  had  left 
behind  were  doing,  and  always  found  them 
standing  in  apparent  debate ;  but  my  guard 
showed  so  much  jealousy  of  these  movements 
that  I  presently  shrugged  my  shoulders  again 
and  desisted. 

I  had  racked  my  brains  to  bring  about  this 
state  of  things.  Strange  to  say,  now  I  had 
succeeded,  I  found  it  less  satisfactory  than  I 
had   hoped.      I    had   reduced   the  odds    and    got 


148  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

rid  of  my  most  dangerous  antagonists ;  but 
Antoine,  left  to  himself,  proved  to  be  as  full 
of  suspicion  as  an  egg  of  meat.  He  rode  a 
little  behind  me,  with  his  gun  across  his  saddle- 
bow, and  a  pistol  near  his  hand  ;  and  at  the 
slightest  pause  on  my  part,  or  if  I  turned  to 
look  at  him,  he  muttered  his  constant  '  Forward, 
Monsieur ! '  in  a  tone  which  warned  me  that  his 
finger  was  on  the  trigger.  At  such  a  distance 
he  could  not  miss ;  and  I  saw  nothing  for  it 
but  to  go  on  meekly  before  him  to  the  Roca 
Blanca — and  my  fate. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  road  presently 
reached  the  end  of  the  valley  and  entered  a 
narrow  pine-clad  defile,  strewn  with  rocks  and 
boulders,  over  which  the  torrent  plunged  and 
eddied  with  a  deafening  roar.  In  front  the 
white  gleam  of  waterfalls  broke  the  sombre 
ranks  of  climbing  trunks.  The  snow  line  lay 
less  than  half  a  mile  away  on  either  hand  ;  and 
crowning  all  —  at  the  end  of  the  pass,  as  it 
seemed  to  the  eye  —  rose  the  pure  white  pillar 
of  the   Pic   du    Midi   shooting   up   six    thousand 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  149 

feet  into  the  blue  of  heaven.  Such  a  scene 
so  suddenly  disclosed,  was  enough  to  drive  the 
sense  of  danger  from  my  mind ;  and  for  a 
moment  I  reined  in  my  horse.  But  *  Forward 
Monsieur ! '  came  the  grating  order.  I  fell  to 
earth  again,  and  went  on.     What  was  to  be  done  ? 

I  was  at  my  wit's  end  to  know.  The  man 
refused  to  talk,  refused  to  ride  abreast  of  me, 
would  have  no  dismounting,  no  halting,  no 
communication  at  all.  He  would  have  nothing 
but  this  silent,  lonely  procession  of  two,  with 
the  muzzle  of  his  gun  at  my  back.  And  mean- 
while we  were  fast  climbing  the  pass.  We  had 
left  the  others  an  hour  —  nearly  two.  The  sun 
was  declining  ;  the  time,  I  supposed,  about  half- 
past  three. 

If  he  would  only  let  me  come  within  reach  of 
him  !  Or  if  anything  would  fall  out  to  take 
his  attention  !  When  the  pass  presently  widened 
into  a  bare  and  dreary  valley,  strewn  with 
huge  boulders  and  with  snow  lying  here  and 
there  in  the  hollows,  I  looked  desperately  before 
sue,  and  scanned  even  the  vast  snow-fields  that 


ISO  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

overhung  us  and  stretched  away  to  the  base  or 
the  ice-peak.  But  I  saw  nothing.  No  bear 
swung  across  the  path,  no  izard  showed  itself 
on  the  cliffs.  The  keen,  sharp  air  cut  our  cheeks 
and  warned  me  that  we  were  approaching  the 
summit  of  the  ridge.  On  all  sides  were  silence 
and  desolation. 

Alon  Dieu  I  And  the  ruffians  on  whose  tender 
mercies  I  was  to  be  thrown  might  come  to 
meet  us !  They  might  appear  at  any  moment. 
In  my  despair  I  loosened  my  hat  on  my  head, 
and  let  the  first  gust  carry  it  to  the  ground,  and 
then  with  an  oath  of  annoyance  tossed  my  feet 
from  the  stirrups  to  go  after  it  But  the  rascal 
roared  to  me  to  keep  my  seat. 

'  Forward,  Monsieur ! '  he  shouted  brutally. 
'Go  on ! ' 

*  But  my  hat ! '  I  cried.  '  Milk  tonnerres,  man  ! 
I  must — ' 

'  Forward,  Monsieur,  or  I  shoot  1 '  he  replied 
inexorably  raising  his  gun.     '  One — two — ' 

And  I  went  on.  But,  ah,  I  was  wrathful  1 
That  I,  Gil  dc  Bcrault,  should  be  outwitted,  and 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  151 

led  by  the  nose  like  a  ringed  bull,  by  this 
Gascon  lout !  That  I,  whom  all  Paris  knew  and 
feared— if  it  did  not  love — the  terror  of  Zaton's, 
should  come  to  my  end  in  this  dismal  waste  of 
snow  and  rock,  done  to  death  by  some  pitiful 
smuggler  or  thief!  It  must  not  be.  Surely  in 
the  last  resort  I  could  give  an  account  of  one 
man,  though  his  belt  were  stuffed  with  pistols. 

But  how?  Only,  it  seemed,  by  open  force. 
My  heart  began  to  flutter  as  I  planned  it ; 
and  then  grew  steady  again.  A  hundred  paces 
before  us  a  gully  or  ravine  on  the  left  ran 
up  into  the  snow-field.  Opposite  its  mouth 
a  jumble  of  stones  and  broken  rocks  covered 
the  path,  I  marked  this  for  the  place.  The 
knave  would  need  both  his  hands  to  hold 
up  his  nag  over  the  stones,  and,  if  I  turned 
on  him  suddenly  enough,  he  might  either  drop 
his  gun  or  fire  it  harmlessly. 

But,  in  the  meantime,  something  happened  ; 
as,  at  the  last  moment,  things  do  happen. 
While  we  were  still  fifty  yards  short  of  the 
place,  I   found  his  horse's  nose  creeping  forward 


152  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

on  a  level  with  my  crupper  ;  and,  still  advancing, 
still  advancing,  until  I  could  see  it  out  of  the  tail 
of  my  eye,  and  my  heart  gave  a  great  bound. 
He  was  coming  abreast  of  me :  he  was  going 
to  deliver  himself  into  my  hands !  To  cover 
my  excitement,  I  began  to  whistle. 

'  Hush ! '  he  muttered  fiercely,  his  voice 
sounding  so  strange  and  unnatural,  that  my  first 
thought  was  that  he  was  ill  ;  and  I  turned  to 
him.     But  he  only  said  again, — 

'  Hush !     Pass  by  here  quietly,  Monsieur.' 

'  Why  ? '  I  asked  mutinously,  curiosity  getting 
the  better  of  me.  For  had  I  been  wise  I  had 
taken  no  notice ;  every  second  his  horse  was 
coming  up  with  mine.  Its  nose  was  level  with 
my  stirrup  already. 

'Hush,  man!*  he  said  again.  This  time  there 
was  no  mistake  about  the  panic  in  his  voice. 
'  They  call  this  the  Devil's  Chapel.  God  send 
us  safe  by  it  1  It  is  icite  to  be  here.  Look  at 
those  1 '  he  continued,  pointing  with  a  finger 
which   visibly  shook. 

I    looked.     At    the    mouth    of  the    gully,    in   a 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  133 

small  space  partly  cleared  of  stones,  stood  three 
broken  shafts,  raised  on  rude  pedestals. 

'  Well  ? '  I  said  in  a  low  voice.  The  sun, 
which  was  near  setting,  flushed  the  great  peak 
above  to  the  colour  of  blood  ;  but  the  valley 
was  growing  grey  and  each  moment  more 
dreary.     '  Well,  what  of  those  ? '  I  said. 

In  spite  of  my  peril  and  the  excitement  of 
the  coming  struggle  I  felt  the  chill  of  his  fear. 
Never  had  I  seen  so  grim,  so  desolate,  so  God- 
forsaken a  place  I     Involuntarily  I  shivered. 

'They  were  crosses,'  he  muttered  in  a  voice 
little  above  a  whisper,  while  his  eyes  roved  this 
way  and  that  in  terror.  'The  Cur6  of  Gabas 
blessed  the  place,  and  set  them  up.  But  next 
morning  they  were  as  you  see  them  now. 
Come  on.  Monsieur ;  come  on ! '  he  continued, 
plucking  at  my  arm.  '  It  is  not  safe  here  after 
sunset.     Pray  God,  Satan  be  not  at  home ! ' 

He  had  completely  forgotten  in  his  panic 
that  he  had  anything  to  fear  from  me.  His 
gun  dropped  loosely  across  his  saddle,  his  leg 
rubbed   mine.       I    saw   this,   and    I    changed   ray 


154  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

plan  of  action.  As  our  horses  reached  the 
stones  I  stooped,  as  if  to  encourage  mine, 
and,  with  a  sudden  clutch,  snatched  the  gun 
bodily  from  his  hand,  at  the  same  time  that  I 
backed  my  horse  with  all  my  strength.  It 
was  done  in  a  moment !  A  second  and  I  had 
him  at  the  end  of  the  gun,  and  my  finger  was 
on  the  trigger.  Never  was  victory  more  easily 
gained. 

He  looked  at  me  between  rage  and  terror, 
his  jaw  fallen. 

'Are  you  mad?'  he  cried,  his  teeth  chatter- 
ing as  he  spoke.  Even  in  this  strait  his  eyes 
left  me  and  wandered  round  in  alarm. 

'  No,  sane  ! '  I  retorted  fiercely.  '  But  I  do 
not  like  this  place  any  better  than  you  do.' 
Which  was  true  enough,  if  not  quite  true.  'So, 
by  your  right,  quick  march ! '  I  continued  im- 
peratively. '  Turn  your  horse,  my  friend,  or 
take  the  consequences.' 

He  turned  like  a  lamb,  and  headed  down  the 
valley  again,  without  giving  a  thought  to  his 
pistols.     I  kept  close  to  him,  and  in  less  than  a 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  155 

minute  we  had  left  the  Devil's  Chapel  well 
behind  us,  and  were  moving  down  again  as  we 
had  come  up.     Only  now  I  held  the  gun. 

When  we  had  gone  half  a  mile  or  so— until 
then  I  did  not  feel  comfortable  myself,  and 
though  I  thanked  heaven  that  the  place  existed, 
I  thanked  heaven  also  that  I  was  out  of  it — I 
bade  him  halt. 

'Take  off  your  belt,'  I  said  curtly,  'and 
throw  it  down.  But,  mark  me,  if  you  turn  I 
fire.' 

The  spirit  was  quite  gone  out  of  him,  and  he 
obeyed  mechanically.  I  jumped  down,  still 
covering  him  v.'ith  the  gun,  and  picked  up  the 
belt,  pistols  and  all.  Then  I  remounted,  and 
we  went  on.  By-and-by  he  asked  me  sullenly 
what  I  was  going  to  do. 

*  Go  back,'  I  said,  '  and  take  the  road  to  Auch 
when  I  come  to  it' 

*  It  will  be  dark  in  an  hour,'  he  answered 
sulkily. 

'  I  know  that,'  I  retorted.  '  We  must  camp 
and  do  the  best  we  can.' 


155  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

And  as  I  said,  we  did.  The  daylight  held 
until  we  gained  the  skirts  of  the  pine-wood  at 
the  head  of  the  pass.  Here  I  chose  a  corner  a 
little  off  the  track,  and  well  sheltered  from  the 
wind,  and  bade  him  light  a  fire.  I  tethered  the 
horses  near  this  and  within  sight  Then  it  re- 
mained only  to  sup.  I  had  a  piece  of  bread  ; 
he  had  another  and  an  onion.  We  ate  in  sil 
ence,  sitting  on  opposite  sides  of  the  fire. 

But  after  supper  I  found  myself  in  a  dilemma ; 
I  did  not  see  how  I  was  to  sleep.  The  ruddy 
light  which  gleamed  on  the  knave's  swart  face 
and  sinewy  hands  showed  also  his  eyes,  black, 
sullen,  and  watchful.  I  knew  that  the  man 
was  plotting  revenge ;  that  he  would  not  hesitate 
to  plant  his  knife  between  my  ribs  should  I 
give  him  the  chance ;  and  1  could  find  only  one 
alternative  to  remaining  awake.  Had  I  been 
bloody-minded,  I  should  have  chosen  it  and 
solved  the  question  at  once  and  in  my  favour 
by  shooting  him  as  he  sat. 

But  1  have  never  been  a  cruel  man,  and  I 
could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  do  this.     The 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  157 

silence  of  the  mountain  and  the  sky — which 
seemed  a  thing  apart  from  the  roar  of  the 
torrent  and  not  to  be  broken  by  it — awed  me. 
Tlie  vastness  of  the  solitude  in  which  we  sat, 
the  dark  void  above,  through  which  the  stars 
kept  shooting,  the  black  gulf  below  in  which  the 
unseen  waters  boiled  and  surged,  the  absence 
of  other  human  company  or  other  signs  of 
human  existence,  put  such  a  face  upon  the  deed 
that  I  gave  up  the  thought  of  it  with  a  shudder, 
and  resigned  myself,  instead,  to  watch  through 
the  night — the  long,  cold,  Pyrenean  night.  Pre- 
sently he  curled  himself  up  like  a  dog  and  slept 
in  the  blaze,  and  then  for  a  couple  ot  hours  I 
sat  opposite  him,  thinking.  It  seemed  years 
since  I  had  seen  Zaton's  or  thrown  the  dice. 
The  old  life,  the  old  employments  —  should  I 
ever  go  back  to  them  ? — seemed  dim  and  distant. 
Would  Cocheforet,  the  forest  and  the  mountain, 
the  grey  Chateau  and  its  mistresses,  seem  one 
day  as  dim  ?  And  if  one  bit  of  life  could  fade 
so  quickb/  at  the  unrolling  of  another,  and  seem 
in  a  moment  pale  and  colourless,  would  all  life 


iS8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

some  day  and  somewhere,  and  all  the  things 
we —  But  enough !  I  was  growing  foolish.  I 
sprang  up  and  kicked  the  wo:)d  together,  and, 
taking  up  the  gun,  began  to  pace  to  and  fro 
under  the  cliff.  Strange  that  a  little  moonlight, 
a  few  stars,  a  breath  of  solitude  should  carry  a 
man  back  to  childhood  and  childish  things. 

•         ••••••••• 

It  was  three  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day, 
and  the  sun  lay  hot  on  the  oak  groves,  and  the  air 
was  full  of  warmth  as  we  began  to  climb  the  slope, 
midway  up  which  the  road  to  Auch  shoots  out  of  the 
track.  The  yellow  bracken  and  the  fallen  leaves 
underfoot  seemed  to  throw  up  light  of  themselves ; 
and  here  and  there  a  patch  of  ruddy  beech  lay 
like  a  bloodstain  on  the  hillside.  In  front  a 
herd  of  pigs  routed  among  the  mast,  and  grunted 
lazily  ;  and  high  above  us  a  boy  lay  watching  them. 

•We  part  here,'  I  said    to    my  companion. 

It  was  my  plan  to  ride  a  little  way  along  the  road 
to  Auch  so  as  to  blind  his  eyes  ;  then,  leaving  my 
horse  in  the  forest,  I  would  go  on  foot  to  the  Chateau. 

' The   sooner   the  better ! '   he  answeied   with  a 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  159 

snarl.  'And  I  hope  I  may  never  see  your 
face  again,  Monsieur.' 

But  when  we  came  to  the  wooden  cross  at  the  fork 
of  the  roads,  and  were  about  to  part,  the  boy  we  had 
seen  leapt  out  of  the  fern  and  came  to  meet  us. 

'  Hollo ! '  he  cried  in  a  sing-song  tone. 

'Well,'  my  companion  answered,  drawing  rein 
impatiently.     'What  is  it?' 

•There  are  soldiers  in  the  village.' 

*  Soldiers  ? '  Antoine  cried  incredulously. 

'Ay, devils  on  horseback,' the  lad  answered,  spitting 
on  the  ground.    *  Three  score  of  them.    From  Auch.' 

Antoine  turned  to  me,  his  face  transformed 
with  fury. 

'  Curse  you ! '  he  cried.  *  This  is  some  of 
your  work.  Now  we  are  all  undone.  And 
my  mistresses?  Sacre !  if  I  had  that  gun  I  would 
shoot  you  like  a  rat.' 

*  Steady,  fool,'  I  answered  roughly.  '  I  know 
no  more  of  this  than  you  do.' 

Which  was  so  true  that  my  surprise  was  at 
least  as  great  as  his,  and  better  grounded.  The 
Cardinal,   who   rarely   made   a    change   of   front, 


i6o  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

had  sent  me  hither  that  he  might  not  be  forced 
to  send  soldiers,  and  run  the  risk  of  all  that 
might  arise  from  such  a  movement.  What  of 
this  invasion,  then,  than  which  nothing  could  be 
less  consistent  with  his  plans  ?  I  wondered.  It 
was  possible  that  the  travelling  merchants,  before 
whom  I  had  played  at  treason,  had  reported 
the  facts  ;  and  that  on  this  the  Commandant  at 
Auch  had  acted.  But  it  seemed  unlikely  since 
he  had  had  his  orders  too,  and  under  the 
Cardinal's  rule  there  was  small  place  for 
individual  enterprise.  Frankly  I  could  not  under- 
stand it,  and  found  only  one  thing  clear ;  I 
might  now  enter  the  village  as  I  pleased. 

'  I  am  going  on  to  look  into  this,'  I  said  to 
Antoine.     '  Come,  my  man.' 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  stood  still. 

'  Not  I  ! '  he  answered,  with  an  oath.  '  No 
soldiers  for  me !  I  have  lain  out  one  night, 
and  I  can  lie  out  another.' 

I  nodded  indifferently,  for  I  no  longer  wanted 
him  ;  and  we  parted.  After  this,  twenty  minutes' 
ridirig  brought  me  to  the  entrance  of  the  village, 


UNDER  THE  PIC  DU  MIDI  i6i 

and  here  the  change  was  great  indeed.  Not 
one  of  the  ordinary  dwellers  in  the  place  was 
to  be  seen  :  either  they  had  shut  themselves  up 
in  their  hovels,  or,  like  Antoine,  they  had  fled 
to  the  woods.  Their  doors  were  closed,  their 
windows  shuttered.  But  lounging  about  the 
street  were  a  score  of  dragoons,  in  boots  and 
breastplates,  whose  short-barrelled  muskets,  with 
pouches  and  bandoliers  attached,  were  piled 
near  the  inn  door.  In  an  open  space,  where  there 
was  a  gap  in  the  street,  a  long  row  of  horses, 
linked  head  to  head,  stood  bending  their  muzzles 
over  bundles  of  rough  forage ;  and  on  all  sides 
the  cheerful  jingle  of  chains  and  bridles  and  the 
sound  of  coarse  jokes  and  laughter  filled  the  air. 
As  I  rode  up  to  the  inn  door  an  old  sergeant, 
with  squinting  eyes  and  his  tongue  in  his  cheek, 
scanned  me  inquisitively,  and  started  to  cross 
the  street  to  challenge  me.  Fortunately,  at  that 
moment  the  two  knaves  whom  I  had  brought 
from  Paris  with  me,  and  whom  I  had  left  at 
Auch  to  await  my  orders,  came  up.  I  made  them  a 
sign  not  to  speak  to  me,  and  they  passed  on  ;  but 


i62  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  suppose  that  they  told  the  sergeant  that  I  was 
not  the  man  he  wanted,  for  I  saw  no  more  of  him. 

After  picketing  my  horse  behind  the  inn  —  I 
could  find  no  better  stable,  every  place  being 
full  —  I  pushed  my  way  through  the  group  at 
the  door,  and  entered.  The  old  room,  with  the 
low,  grimy  roof  and  the  reeking  floor,  was  half 
full  of  strange  figures,  and  for  a  few  minutes 
I  stood  unseen  in  the  smoke  and  confusion. 
Then  the  landlord  came  my  way,  and  as  he 
passed  me  I  caught  his  eye.  He  uttered  a  low 
curse,  dropped  the  pitcher  he  was  carrying,  and 
stood  glaring  at   me  like  a  man  possessed. 

The  soldier  whose  wine  he  was  carrying  flung 
a  crust  in  his  face,  with, — 

'  Now,  greasy  fingers  !    What  are  you  staring  at  ? ' 

'  The  devil ! '  the  landlord  muttered,  beginning 
to  tremble. 

'  Then  let  me  look  at  him  ! '  the  man  retorted, 
and   he  turned  on  his  stool. 

He  started,  finding  me  standing  over  him. 

'  At  your  service ! '  I  said  grimly.  '  A  little 
time  and  it  will  be  the  other  way,  my  friend.' 


CHAPTER    VII 

A   MASTER   STROKE 

T  HAVE  a  way  with  me  which  commonly 
commands  respect ;  and  when  the  land- 
lord's first  terror  was  over  and  he  would  serve 
me,  I  managed  to  get  my  supper  —  the  first 
good  meal  I  had  had  in  two  days  —  pretty 
comfortably  in  spite  of  the  soldiers'  presence. 
The  crowd,  too,  which  filled  the  room,  soon 
began  to  melt.  The  men  strayed  off  in  groups 
to  water  their  horses,  or  went  to  hunt  up  their 
quarters,  until  only  two  or  three  were  left.  Dusk 
had  fallen  outside ;  the  noise  in  the  street  grew 
less.  The  firelight  began  to  glow  and  flicker  on 
the  walls,  and  the  wretched  room  to  look  as 
homely  as  it  was  in  its  nature  to  look.  I  was 
pondering  for  the  twentieth  time  what  step  I 
should     take    next,    and     questioning     why    the 

soldiers    were    here,    and   whether    I    should    let 

163 


i64  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

the  night  pass  before  I  moved,  when  the  door, 
which  had  been  turning  on  its  hinges  almost 
without  pause  for  an  hour,  opened  again,  and  a 
woman  came  in. 

She  paused  a  moment  on  the  threshold  look- 
ing round,  and  I  saw  that  she  had  a  shawl  on 
her  head  and  a  milk  -  pitcher  in  her  hand,  and 
that  her  feet  and  ankles  were  bare.  There  was 
a  great  rent  in  her  coarse  stuff"  petticoat,  and 
the  hand  which  held  the  shawl  together  was 
brown  and  dirty.  More  I  did  not  see:  for,  suppos- 
ing her  to  be  a  neighbour  stolen  in,  now  that  the 
house  was  quiet,  to  get  some  milk  for  her  child  or 
the  like,  I  took  no  farther  heed  of  her.  I  turned 
to  the  fire  again  and  plunged  into  my  thoughts. 

But  to  get  to  the  hearth  where  the  goodwife 
was  fidgeting  the  woman  had  to  pass  in  front  of 
me ;  and  as  she  passed  I  suppose  that  she  stole  a 
look  at  me  from  under  her  shawl.  For  just  when 
she  came  between  me  and  the  blaze  she  uttered  a 
low  cry  and  shrank  aside — so  quickly  that  she  al- 
most stepped  on  the  hearth.  The  next  moment 
she  turned  her  back  to  me,  and  was  stooping  whis- 


One  of  the  Men  laughed,  and  the  other  began  to  sing  a  low  Song. 


A  MASTER  STROKE  165 

paring  in  the  housewife's  ear.  A  stranger  might 
have  thousfht  that  she  had  trodden  on  a  hot  ember. 

But  another  idea,  and  a  very  strange  one,  came 
into  my  mind ;  and  I  stood  up  silently.  The 
woman's  back  was  towards  me,  but  something  in 
her  height,  her  shape,  the  pose  of  her  head, 
hidden  as  it  was  by  her  shawl,  seemed  familiar. 
I  waited  while  she  hung  over  the  fire  whispering, 
and  while  the  goodwife  slowly  filled  her  pitcher 
out  of  the  great  black  pot.  But  when  she  turned 
to  go,  I  took  a  step  forward  so  as  to  bar  her 
way.     And  our  eyes  met 

I  could  not  see  her  features ;  they  were  lost  in 
the  shadow  of  the  hood.  But  I  saw  a  shiver  run 
through  her  from  head  to  foot  And  I  knew 
then  that  I  had  made  no  mistake. 

•That  is  too  heavy  for  you,  my  girl/  I  said 
familiarly,  as  I  might  have  spoken  to  a  village 
wench.     '  I  will  carry  it  for  you.' 

One  of  the  men,  who  remained  lolling  at  the 
table,  laughed,  and  the  other  began  to  sing  a  low 
song.  The  woman  trembled  in  rage  or  fear,  but 
she   kept   silence  and   let  me  take  the  jug  from 


1 66  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

her  hands  ;  and  when  I  went  to  the  door  and  opened 
it,  she  followed  mechanically.  An  instant,  and  the 
door  fell  to  behind  us,  shutting  off  the  light  and 
glow,  and  we  two  stood  together  in  the  growing  dusk. 

'  It  is  late  for  you  to  be  out,  Mademoiselle,'  I  said 
politely.  'You  might  meet  with  some  rudeness, 
dressed  as  you  are.     Permit  me  to  see  you  home.' 

She  shuddered,  and  I  thought  that  I  heard  her 
sob,  but  she  did  not  answer.  Instead,  she  turned 
and  walked  quickly  through  the  village  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Chateau,  keeping  in  the  shadow  of 
the  houses.  I  carried  the  pitcher  and  walked 
close  to  her,  beside  her ;  and  in  the  dark  I  smiled. 
I  knew  how  shame  and  impotent  rage  were  work- 
ing in  her.     This  was  something  like  revenge ! 

Presently  I  spoke. 

'  Well,  Mademoiselle,'  I  said,  '  where  are  your 
grooms  ? ' 

She  gave  me  one  look,  her  eyes  blazing  with 
anger,  her  face  like  hate  itself;  and  after  that  I 
said  no  more,  but  left  her  in  peace,  and  con- 
tented myself  with  walking  at  her  shoulder  until 
we   came   to   the   end    of  the   village,   where   the 


A  MASTER  STROKE  167 

track  to  the  great  house  plunged  into  the  wood. 
There  she  stopped,  and  turned  on  me  Hke  a  wild 
creature  at  bay. 

*  What  do  you  want  ? '  she  cried  hoarsely,  breath- 
ing as  if  she  had  been  running. 

'To  see  you  safe  to  the  house,'  I  answered 
coolly.     'Alone  you  might  be  insulted.' 

'  And  if  I  will  not  ? '  she  retorted. 

'The  choice  does  not  lie  with  you,  Made- 
moiselle,' I  answered  sternly.  *  You  will  go  to  the 
house  with  me,  and  on  the  way  you  will  give  me  an 
interview — late  as  it  is  ;  but  not  here.  Here  we  are 
not  private  enough.  We  may  be  interrupted  at  any 
moment,  and  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  at  length.' 

'  At  length  ? '  she  muttered. 

'  Yes,  Mademoiselle.' 

I  saw  her  shiver.  *  What  if  I  will  not  ? '  she 
said  again. 

'  I  might  call  to  the  nearest  soldiers  and  tell 
them  who  you  are,'  I  answered  coolly.  '  I  might 
do  that,  but  I  should  not.  That  were  a  clumsy 
way  of  punishing  you,  and  I  know  a  better  way. 
I   should  go   to   the   captain,   Mademoiselle,   and 


t68  under  the  red  ROBE 

tell  him  whose  horse  is  locked  up  in  the  inn  stable. 
A  trooper  told  me  —  as  someone  had  told  him — 
that  it  belonged  to  one  of  his  officers  ;  but  I  looked 
through  the  crack,  and  I  knew  the  horse  again.' 

She  could  not  repress  a  groan.  I  waited  ;  still 
she  did  not  speak. 

'  Shall  I  go  to  the  captain  ? '  I  said  ruthlessly. 

She  shook  the  hood  back  from  her  face  and 
looked  at  me. 

'  Oh,  you  coward !  you  coward ! '  she  hissed 
through  her  teeth.     '  If  I  had  a  knife ! ' 

'  But  you  have  not,  Mademoiselle,'  I  answered, 
unmoved.  'Be  good  enough,  therefore,  to  make  up 
your  mind  which  it  is  to  be.  Am  I  to  go  with  my 
news  to  the  captain,  or  am  I  to  come  with  you  ? ' 

'Give  me  the  pitcher,'  she  said  harshly. 

I  did  so,  wondering.  In  a  moment  she  flung 
it  with  a  savage  gesture  far  into  the  bushes. 

'  Come  ! '  she  said,  '  if  you  will.  But  some  day 
God  will  punish  you  1 ' 

Without  another  word  she  turned  and  entered 
the  path  through  the  trees,  and  I  followed  her.  I 
suppose  that  every  one  of  its  windings,  every  hollow 


A  MASTER  STROKE  169 

and  broken  place  in  it  had  been  known  to  her 
from  childhood,  for  she  followed  it  swiftly  and 
unerringly,  barefoot  as  she  was.  I  had  to  walk 
fast  through  the  darkness  to  keep  up  with  her. 
The  wood  was  quiet,  but  the  frogs  were  begin- 
ning to  croak  in  the  pool,  and  their  persistent 
chorus  reminded  me  of  the  night  when  I  had 
come  to  the  house-door,  hurt  and  worn  out,  and 
Clon  had  admitted  me,  and  she  had  stood  under 
the  gallery  in  the  hall.  Things  had  looked  dark 
then.  I  had  seen  but  a  very  little  way  ahead 
then.  Now  all  was  plain.  The  commandant 
might  be  here  with  all  his  soldiers,  but  it  was 
I  who  held  the  strings. 

We  came  to  the  little  wooden  bridge  and  saw 
beyond  the  dark  meadows  the  lights  of  the  house. 
All  the  windows  were  bright.  Doubtless  the 
troopers  were  making  merry. 

'Now,  Mademoiselle,'  I  said  quietly, '  I  must  trouble 
you  to  stop  here,  and  give   me  your  attention  for 

few  minutes.  Afterwards  you  may  go  your  way.' 
a  'Speak!'  she  said  defiantly.  'And  be  quick !  I  can- 
not breathe  the  air  where  you  are  !  It  poisons  me  ! ' 

u 


I70  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

*  Ah  ! '  I  said  slowly.  '  Do  you  think  that  you 
make  things  better  by  such  speeches  as  those  ? ' 

'  Oh  ! '  she  cried — and  I  heard  her  teeth  click 
together.     'Would  you  have  me  fawn  on  you?' 

'  Perhaps  not,'  I  answered.  '  Still  you  make 
one  mistake.' 

'  What  is  it  ? '  she  panted. 

'  You  forget  that  I  am  to  be  feared  as  well  as 
— loathed,  Mademoiselle!  Ay,  Mademoiselle,  to 
be  feared  ! '  I  continued  grimly.  *  Do  you  think 
that  I  do  not  know  why  you  are  here  in  this 
guise?  Do  you  think  that  I  do  not  know  for 
whom  that  pitcher  of  broth  was  intended  ?  Or  who 
will  now  have  to  fast  to-night  ?  I  tell  you  I  know 
all  these  things.  Your  house  was  full  of  soldiers  ; 
your  servants  were  watched  and  could  not  leave. 
You  had  to  come  yourself  and  get  food  for  him  ! ' 

She  clutched  at  the  handrail  of  the  bridge,  and 
for  an  instant  clung  to  it  for  support.  Her  face, 
from  which  the  shawl  had  fallen,  glimmered 
white  in  the  shadow  of  the  tiees.  At  last  I 
had  shaken  her  pride.     At  last ! 

'  What  is  your  price  ? '  .she   murmured   faintly. 


A  MASTER  STROKE  171 

*  I  am  going  to  tell  you,'  I  replied,  speaking 
so  that  every  word  might  fall  distinctly  on  her 
ears,  and  sating  my  eyes  the  while  on  her  proud 
face.  I  had  never  dreamed  of  such  revenge  as 
this !  '  About  a  fortnight  ago,  M.  de  Cocheforet 
left  here  at  night  with  a  little  orange-coloured 
sachet  in  his  possession.' 

She  uttered  a  stifled  cry,  and  drew  herself 
stiffly  erect. 

'  It  contained — but  there.  Mademoiselle,  you 
know  its  contents,'  I  went  on.  *  Whatever  they 
were,  M.  de  Cocheforet  lost  it  and  them  at 
starting.  A  week  ago  he  came  back — un- 
fortunately for  himself— to  seek  them.' 

She  was  looking  full  in  my  face  now.  She 
seemed  scarcely  to  breathe  in  the  intensity  of 
her  surprise  and  expectation, 
'  You  had  a  search  made.  Mademoiselle,'  I  continued 
quietly.  *  Your  servants  left  no  place  unexplored. 
The  paths,  the  roads,  the  very  woods  were  ran- 
sacked. But  in  vain,  because  all  the  while  the  orange 
sachet  lay  whole  and  unopened  in  my  pocket.' 

'  No ! '  she  cried  impetuously.     '  There,  you  lie, 


172  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

sir,  as  usual !     The  sachet  was  found,  torn  open, 
many  leagues  from  this  place ! ' 

*  Where  I  threw  it,  Mademoiselle,'  1  replied, 
'  that  I  might  mislead  your  rascals  and  be  free 
to  return  to  you.  Oh !  believe  me,'  I  continued, 
letting  something  of  my  true  self,  something  of  my 
triumph,  appear  at  last  in  my  voice.  '  You  have 
made  a  mistake  !  You  would  have  done  better 
had  you  trusted  me.  i  am  no  bundle  of  saw- 
dust. Mademoiselle,  though  once  you  got  the 
better  of  me,  but  a  man  ;  a  man  with  an  arm  to 
shield  and  a  brain  to  serve,  and — as  I  am  going 
to  teach  you — a  heart  also  1 '' 

She  shivered. 

'  In  the  orange-coloured  sachet  that  you  lost  I  be- 
lieve that  there  were  eighteen  stones  of  great  value  ? ' 

She  made  no  answer,  but  she  looked  at  me 
as  if  I  fascinated  her.  Her  very  breath  seemed 
to  pause  and  wait  on  my  words.  She  was  so 
little  conscious  of  anything  else,  of  anything  out- 
side ourselves,  that  a  score  of  men  might  have 
come  up  behind  her,  unseen  and  unnoticed. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A  MASTER  STROKE — continued 

T  TOOK  from  my  breast  a  little  packet 
wrapped  in  soft  leather,  and  I  held 
it  towards  her. 

*  Will  you  open  this  ? '  I  said.  '  I  believe  that 
it  contains  what  your  brother  lost.  That  it  con- 
tains all  I  will  not  answer,  Mademoiselle,  be- 
cause I  spilled  the  stones  on  the  floor  of  my 
room,  and  I  may  have  failed  to  find  some. 
But  the  others  can  be  recovered ;  I  know 
where  they  are.' 

She    took    the    packet    slowly    and    began    to 

unroll  it,  her  fingers  shaking.     A  few  turns   and 

the  mild  lustre  of  the  stones  shone  out,  making 

a    kind    of    moonlight    in    her     hands — such     a 

N 


174  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

shimmering  glory  of  imprisoned  light  as  has 
ruined  many  a  woman  and  robbed  many  a 
man  of  his  honour.  Morbkii !  as  I  looked 
at  them — and  as  she  stood  looking  at  them 
in  dull,  entranced  perplexity — I  wondered  how 
I  had  come  to  resist  the  temptation. 

While  I  gazed  her  hands  began  to  waver. 

*  I  cannot  count,'  she  muttered  helplessly. 
'How  many  are  there?' 

*  In  all,  eighteen.' 

'  There  should  be  eighteen,'  she  said. 

She  closed  her  hand  on  them  with  that, 
and  opened  it  again,  and  did  so  twice,  as 
if  to  reassure  herself  that  the  stones  were 
real  and  that  she  was  not  dreaming.  Then 
she  turned  to  me  with  sudden  fierceness,  and 
I  saw  that  her  beautiful  face,  sharpened  by 
the  greed  of  possession,  was  grown  as  keen 
and  vicious  as  before. 

'  Well  ?  she  muttered  between  her  teeth 
'Your  price,  man?      Your  price?' 

'  I  am  coming  to  it  now.  Mademoiselle,'  I 
said     gravely.       'It    is    a    simple    matter.      You 


A  MASTER  STROKE  175 

remember  the  afternoon  when  I  followed  you 
— clumsily  and  thoughtlessly  perhaps — through 
the  wood  to  restore  these  things?  In  seeming 
that  happened  about  a  month  ago.  I  believe 
that  it  happened  the  day  before  yesterday. 
You  called  me  then  some  very  harsh  name, 
which  I  will  not  hurt  you  by  repeating.  The  only 
price  I  ask  for  the  restoration  of  your  jewels  is 
that  you  on  your  part  recall  those  names.' 

'  How  ? '  she  muttered.     '  I  do  not  understand.' 

I  repeated  my  words  very  slowly.  'The  only 
price  or  reward  I  ask,  Mademoiselle,  is  that  you 
take  back  those  names  and  say  that  they  were 
not  deserved.' 

•  And  the  jewels  ? '  she  exclaimed  hoarsely. 

'They  are  yours.  They  are  not  mine.  They 
are  nothing  to  me.  Take  them,  and  say  that 
you  do  not  think  of  me —  Nay,  I  cannot 
say  the  words.  Mademoiselle.' 

'  But  there  is  something — else !  What  else  ?  ' 
she  cried,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  eyes,  bright 
as  any  wild  animal's,  searching  mine.  *  Ha !  my 
brother?     What  of  him  ?     What  of  him,  sir?'. 


176  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  For  him,  Mademoiselle — I  would  prefer  that 
you  should  tell  me  no  more  than  I  know 
already/  I  answered  in  a  low  voice.  '  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  in  that  affair.  But  yes ;  there  is  one 
thing  I  have  not  mentioned.     You  are  right' 

She  sighed  so  deeply  that  I  caught  ihe 
sound. 

'  It  is,'  I  continued  slowly,  *  that  you  will  per- 
mit me  to  remain  at  Cocheforet  for  a  few  days 
while  the  soldiers  are  here.  I  am  told  that 
there  are  twenty  men  and  two  officers  quartered 
in  your  house.  Your  brother  is  away.  I  ask 
to  be  permitted,  Mademoiselle,  to  take  his  place 
for  the  time,  and  to  be  privileged  to  protect  your 
sister  and  yourself  from  insult.     That  is  all.' 

She  raised  her  hand  to  her  head.  After  a 
long  pause, — 

'  The  frogs  ! '  she  muttered,  *  they  croak !  I 
cannot  hear.' 

Then,  to  my  surprise,  she  turned  quickly  and 
suddenly  on  her  heel,  and  walked  over  the  bridge, 
leaving  me  standing  there.  For  a  moment  I 
stood  aghast,   peering   after   her   shadowy   figure, 


A  MASTER  STROKE  177 

and  wondering  what  had  taken  her.  Then,  in  a 
minute  or  less  she  came  quickly  back  to  me,  and 
I  understood.     She  was  crying. 

*  M.  de  Barthe,'  she  said,  in  a  trembling  voice, 
which  told  me  that  the  victory  was  won,  '  is 
there  nothing  else  ?  Have  you  no  other  penance 
for  me  ? ' 

*  None,  Mademoiselle.' 

She  had  drawn  the  shawl  over  her  head,  and 
I  no  longer  saw  her  face. 

*  That  is  all  you  ask  ? '  she  murmured. 
'  That  is  all  I  ask — now,'  I  answered. 

'  It  is  granted,'  she  said  slowly  and  firmly. 
'  Forgive  me  if  I  seem  to  speak  lightly — if  I 
seem  to  make  little  of  your  generosity  or  my 
shame ;  but  I  can  say  no  more  now.  I  am  so 
deep  in  trouble  and  so  gnawed  by  terror  that — 
I  cannot  feel  anything  keenly  to-night,  either 
shame  or  gratitude.  I  am  in  a  dream ;  God 
grant  that  it  may  pass  as  a  dream !  We  are 
sunk  in  trouble.  But  for  you  and  what  you 
have  done,  M.  de  Barthe — I — '  she  paused  and 
I  heard  her  fighting  with  the  sobs  which  choked 


17S  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

her — 'forgive  me  ...  I  am  overwrought.  And 
my  —  my  feet  are  cold,'  she  added,  suddenly 
and  irrelevantly.     '  Will  you  take  me  home  ?  * 

•  Ah,  Mademoiselle,'  I  cried  remorsefully,  *  I 
have  been  a  beast !  You  are  barefoot,  and  I 
have  kept  you  here.' 

'  ft  is  nothing,'  she  said  in  a  voice  which  thrilled 
me.  'My  heart  is  warm,  Monsieur  —  thanks  to 
you.  It  is  many  hours  since  it  has  been  as 
warm.' 

She  stepped  out  of  the  shadow  as  she  spoke — 
and  there,  the  thing  was  done.  As  I  had  planned, 
so  it  had  come  about.  Once  more  I  was  cross- 
ing the  meadow  in  the  dark  to  be  received  at 
Cocheforet,  a  welcome  guest.  The  frogs  croaked 
in  the  pool  and  a  bat  swooped  round  us  in  circles ; 
and  surely  never — never,  I  thought,  with  a  kind 
of  exultation  in  my  breast — had  man  been  placed 
in  a  stranger  position. 

Somewhere  in  the  black  wood  behind  us — pro- 
bably in  the  outskirts  of  the  village — lurked  M. 
de  Cocheforet.  In  the  great  house  before  us,  out- 
lined  by   a   score   of  lighted    windows,  were   the 


A  MASTER  STROKE  179 

soldiers  come  from  Auch  to  take  him.  Between 
the  two,  moving  side  by  side  in  the  darkness,  in 
a  silence  which  each  found  to  be  eloquent,  were 
Mademoiselle  and  I :  she  who  knew  so  much,  I 
who  knew  all — all  but  one  little  thing ! 

We  reached  the  house,  and  I  suggested  that 
she  should  steal  in  first  by  the  way  she  had  come 
out,  and  that  I  should  wait  a  little  and  knock  at 
the  door  when  she  had  had  time  to  explain  matters 
to  Clon. 

'They  do  not  let  me  see  Clon,'  she  answered 
slowly. 

'  Then  your  woman  must  tell  him,'  I  rejoined, 
'or  he  may  do  something  and  betray  me.' 

*  They  will  not  let  our  women  come  to  us.* 

'What?'  I  cried,  astonished.  'But  this  is 
infamous.     You   are   not  prisoners ! ' 

Mademoiselle  laughed  harshly. 

'  Are  we  not  ?  Well,  I  suppose  not ;  for 
if  we  wanted  company.  Captain  Larolle  said 
that  he  would  be  delighted  to  see  us  —  in  the 
parlour.' 

'  He   has   taken    your   parlour  ? '    I   said. 


r8o  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  He  and  his  lieutenant  sit  there.  But  I  sup- 
pose that  we  rebels  should  be  thankful,'  she  added 
bitterly  ;  *  we  have  still  our  bedrooms  left  to  us.' 

'  Very  well,'  I  said.  '  Then  I  must  deal 
with  Clon  as  I  can.  But  I  have  still  a 
favour  to  ask,  Mademoiselle.  It  is  only  that 
you  and  your  sister  will  descend  to-morrow 
at   your  usual  time.     I   shall  be  in  the  parlour.' 

'  I  would  rather  not,'  she  said,  pausing  and 
speaking  in  a  troubled  voice. 

'  Are  you    afraid  ? ' 

'  No,  Monsieur,  I  am  not  afraid,'  she  answered 
proudly,     '  But—' 

'  You  will  come  ? '    I   said. 

She  sighed  before  she  spoke.      At  length, — 

'  Yes,  I  will  come — if  you  wish  it,'  she  answered. 
And  the  next  moment  she  was  gone  round  the 
corner  of  the  house,  while  I  laughed  to  think  of 
the  excellent  watch  these  gallant  gentlemen  were 
keeping.  M.  de  Cocheforet  might  have  been  with 
her  in  the  garden,  might  have  talked  with  her  as 
I  had  talked,  might  have  entered  the  house  even, 
and  passed  under  their  noses  scot-free.     But  that 


A  MASTER  STROKE  iS 


yj  i. 


is  the  way  of  soldiers.  They  are  ahvays  ready  for 
the  enemy,  with  drums  beating  and  flags  flying — 
at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  But  he  does  not 
ahvays  come  at  that  hour. 

I  waited  a  little,  and  then  I  groped  my  way  to 

the  door   and  knocked  on  it  with  the  hilt  of  my 

sword.     The  dogs  began  to  bark  at  the  back,  and 

the  chorus  of  a  drinking-song,  which  came  fitfully 

from  the  east  wing,  ceased  altogether.     An  inner 

door  opened,  and  an  angry  voice,  apparently  an 

officer's,  began  to  rate  someone  for   not   coming. 

Another  moment,  and  a  clamour  of  voices   and 

footsteps  seemed  to  pour  into  the  hall,  and  fill  it. 

I  heard  the  bar  jerked  away,  the  door  was  flung 

open,  and  in  a  twinkling  a  lanthorn,  behind  which 

a  dozen  flushed  visages  were  dimly  seen,  was  thrust 

into  my  face. 

'  Why,  who  the  fiend  is  this  ? '  one  cried,  glaring 
at  me  in  astonishment. 

*  Mordieu  /      It  is  the  man!'  another  shrieked. 
'  Seize  him  ! ' 

In  a  moment  half  a  dozen  hands  were  laid  on 
my  shoulders,  but  I  only  bowed  politely. 


i32  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  The  officer,  my  friends,'  I  said,  *  M.  le  Capitaine 
Larolle.     Where  is  he  ? ' 

'  Diable  !  but  who  are  you,  first  ?  *  the  lanthorn- 
bearer  retorted  bluntly.  He  was  a  tall,  lanky 
sergeant,  with  a  sinister  face. 

'  Well,  I  am  not  M.  de  Cocheforet,'  I  replied  ; 
'  and  that  must  satisfy  you,  my  man.  For  the  rest, 
if  you  do  not  fetch  Captain  Larolle  at  once  and 
admit  me,  you  will  find  the  consequences  incon- 
venient' 

'  Ho !  ho  ! '  he  said  with  a  sneer.  '  You  can 
crow,  it  seems.     Well,  come  in.' 

They  made  vvay,  and  I  walked  into  the  hall 
keeping  my  hat  on.  On  the  great  hearth  a  fire 
had  been  kindled,  but  it  had  gone  out.  Three 
or  four  carbines  stood  against  one  wall,  and  beside 
them  lay  a  heap  of  haversacks  and  some  straw. 
A  shattered  stool,  broken  in  a  frolic,  and  half  a 
dozen  empty  wine-skins  strewed  the  floor,  and 
helped  to  give  the  place  an  air  of  untidiness  and 
disorder.  I  looked  round  with  eyes  of  disgust, 
and  my  gorge  rose.  The>-  had  spilled  oil,  and 
the  place  reeked  foully. 


A  MASTER  STROKE  1S3 

*  Ventre  bleu  ! '  I  said.  '  Is  this  conduct  in  a 
gentleman's  house,  you  rascals?  Ma  vie!  If  I 
had  you  I  would  send  half  of  you  to  the  wooden 
horse !  * 

They  gazed  at  me  open  -  mouthed  ;  my  arro- 
gance startled  them.  The  sergeant  alone  scowled. 
When  he  could  find  his  voice  for  rage — 

•  This  way ! '  he  said.  '  We  did  not  know  that  a 
general  officer  was  coming,  or  we  would  have  been 
better  prepared  ! '  And  muttering  oaths  under  his 
breath,  he  led  me  down  the  well-known  passage. 
At  the  door  of  the  parlour  he  stopped.  •  Introduce 
yourself !  *  he  said  rudely.  *  And  if  you  find  the 
air  warm,  don't  blame  me  ! ' 

I  raised  the  latch  and  went  in.  At  a  table  in 
front  of  the  hearth,  half  covered  with  glasses  and 
bottles,  sat  two  men  playing  hazard.  The  dice 
rang  sharply  as  I  entered,  and  he  who  had  just 
thrown  kept  the  box  over  them  while  he  turned, 
scowling,  to  see  who  came  in.  He  was  a  fair- 
haired,  blonde  man,  large-framed  and  florid.  He 
had  put  off  his  cuirass  and  boots,  and  his  doublet 
showed  frayed  and  stained  where  the  armour  had 


iS4  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

pressed  on  it.  Otherwise  he  was  in  the  ex- 
treme of  last  year's  fashion.  His  deep  cravat, 
folded  over  so  that  the  laced  ends  drooped  a  little 
in  front,  was  of  the  finest ;  his  great  sash  of  blue 
and  silver  was  a  foot  wide.  He  had  a  little 
jewel  in  one  ear,  and  his  tiny  beard  was  peaked 
a  VEspagnole.  Probably  when  he  turned  he  ex- 
pected to  see  the  sergeant,  for  at  sight  of  me  he 
rose  slowly,  leaving  the  dice  still  covered. 

'  What  folly  is  this  ? '  he  cried,  wrathfully. 
'  Here,  sergeant !  Sergeant !  —  without  there  ! 
What  the — !     Who  are  you,  sir?' 

'Captain  Larolle,'  I  said  uncovering  politely, 
'  I  believe  ? ' 

'  Yes,  I  am  Captain  Larolle,'  he  retorted.  •  But 
who,  in  the  fiend's  name,  are  you  ?  You  are  not 
the  man  we  are  after ! ' 

'  I  am  not  M.  Cocheforet,'  I  said  coolly.  '  I 
am  merely  a  guest  in  the  house,  M.  le  Capitaine 
I  have  been  enjoying  Madame  de  Cocheforet's 
hospitality  for  some  time,  but  by  an  evil  chance 
I  was  away  when  you  arrived.'  And  with  that  I 
walked  to  the  hearth,  and,  gently  pushing  aside 


'You    SEEM   SURPRISED   TO    SEE   ME    HEKE.        liELlEVIi    ME,    1    AM    MUCH    MOKli 
SURl'RISED   TO   SEE   VOU." 


A  MASTER  STROKE  185 

his  great  boots  which  stood  there  drying,  I  kicked 
the  logs  into  a  blaze. 

'  Mille  diables  ! '  he  whispered.  And  never  did 
I  see  a  man  more  confounded.  But  I  affected 
to  be  taken  up  with  his  companion,  a  sturdy, 
white-mustachioed  old  veteran,  who  sat  back  in 
his  chair,  eyeing  me  with  swollen  cheeks  and  eyes 
surcharged  with  surprise. 

•Good  evening,  M.  le  Lieutenant,'  I  said,  bow- 
ing gravely.     '  It  is  a  fine  night' 

Then  the  storm  burst. 

'Fine  night!'  the  Captain  shrieked,  finding  his 
voice  at  last.  *  Mille  diables  !  Are  you  aware,  sir, 
that  I  am  in  possession  of  this  house,  and  that  no 
one  harbours  here  without  my  permission  ?  Guest  ? 
Hospitality  ?  Bundle  of  fiddle-faddle !  Lieutenant, 
call  the  guard  !  Call  the  guard  ! '  he  continued  pas- 
sionately.    *  Where  is  that  ape  of  a  sergeant  ? ' 

The  Lieutenant  rose  to  obey,  but  I  lifted  my  hand. 

'  Gently,  gently,  Captain,'  I  said.  '  Not  so  fast. 
You  seem  surprised  to  see  me  here.  Believe 
me,  I  am  much  more  surprised  to  see  you.' 

*■  Sacri !'   he   cried,   recoiling  at   this  fresh  im- 


iG6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

pertinence,    while    the    Lieutenant's    eyes   almost 
jumped  out  of  his  head. 

But  nothing  moved  me. 

'  Is  the  door  closed  ? '  I  said  sweetly.  '  Thank 
you ;  it  is,  I  see.  Then  permit  me  to  say  again, 
gentlemen,  that  I  am  much  more  surprised  to 
see  you  than  you  can  be  to  see  me.  For  when 
Monseigneur  the  Cardinal  honoured  me  by  sending 
me  from  Paris  to  conduct  this  matter,  he  gave  me 
the  fullest — the  fullest  powers,  M.  le  Capitaine — to 
see  the  affair  to  an  end.  I  was  not  led  to  expect 
that  my  plans  would  be  spoiled  on  the  eve  of  suc- 
cess by  the  intrusion  of  half  the  garrison  from  Auch.' 

'  Oh  ho ! '  the  Captain  said  softly — in  a  very 
different  tone,  and  with  a  very  different  face.  *  So 
you  are  the  gentleman  I  heard  of  at  Auch  ? ' 

Very  likely,'    I    said   drily.     'But    I    am   from 
Paris,  not  from  Auch.' 

*  To  be  sure,'  he  answered  thoughtfully.  '  Eh, 
Lieutenant  ? ' 

'Yes,  M.  le  Capitaine,  no  doubt,'  the  inferior 
replied.  And  they  both  looked  at  one  another, 
and  then  at  mc,  in  a  way  I  did  not  understand 


A  MASTER  STROKE  187 

•  I  think,'  said  l,  to  clinch  to  matter,  '  that  you 
have  made  a  mistake,  Captain ;  or  the  Command- 
ant has.  And  it  occurs  to  me  that  the  Cardinal 
will  not  be  best  pleased.' 

*  I  hold  the  King's  commission,'  he  answered 
rather  stiffly. 

'To  be  sure,'  I  replied.  'But,  you  see,  the 
Cardinal — ' 

'Ay,  but  the  Cardinal — '  he  rejoined  quickly; 
and  then  he  stopped  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
And  they  both  looked  at  me. 

'  Well  ? '  I  said. 

'  The  King,'  he  answered  slowly. 

'  Tut-tut ! '  I  exclaimed,  spreading  out  my  hands. 
'The  Cardinal.  Let  us  stick  to  him.  You  were 
saying  ? ' 

'  Well,  the  Cardinal,  you  see — '  And  then 
again,  after  the  same  words,  he  stopped — stopped 
abruptly,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

I  began  to  suspect  something. 

'  If  you  have  anything  to  say  against  Mon- 
seigneur,'  I  answered,  watching  him  narrowly, 
'  say  it.     But  take  a  word  of  advice.     Don't  let  it 


i88  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

go  beyond  the  door  of  this  room,  my  friend,  and 
it  will  do  you  no  harm.' 

'  Neither  here  nor  outside,'  he  retorted,  looking 
for  a  moment  at  his  comrade.  '  Only  I  hold  the 
King's  commission.  That  is  all,  and,  I  think, 
enough.' 

'Well?'  I  said. 

'Well — for  the  rest,  will  you  throw  a  main?' 
he  answered  evasively.  '  Good  !  Lieutenant,  find 
a  glass,  and  the  gentleman  a  seat.  And  here,  for 
my  part,  I  will  give  you  a  toast  The  Cardinal 
— whatever  betide  !  * 

I  drank  it,  and  sat  down  to  play  with  him  ;  I 
had  not  heard  the  music  of  the  dice  for  a  month, 
and  the  temptation  was  irresistible.  But  I  was 
not  satisfied.  I  called  the  mains  and  won  his 
crowns — he  was  a  mere  baby  at  the  game — but  half 
my  mind  was  elsewhere.  There  was  something 
here  that  I  did  not  understand ;  some  influence 
at  work  on  which  I  had  not  counted  ;  something 
moving  under  the  surface  as  unintelligible  to  me 
as  the  soldiers'  presence.  Had  the  Captain  re- 
pudiated my  commission  altogether,  and  put  me 


A  MASTER  STROKE  189 

to  the  door  or  sent  me  to  the  guard-house,  I  could 
have  followed  that.  But  these  dubious  hints,  this 
passive  resistance,  puzzled  me.  Had  they  news 
from  Paris,  I  wondered  ?  Was  the  King  dead  ? 
Or  the  Cardinal  ill  ?  I  asked  them,  but  they 
said  no,  no,  no  to  all,  and  gave  me  guarded 
answers.  And  midnight  found  us  still  playing; 
and  still  fencing. 


o 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE   QUESTION 

'OWEEP   the   room,   Monsieur?     And    remove 
*^     this  medley?     But  M.  le  Capitaine— ' 

'The  Captain  is  in  the  village,'  I  replied 
sternly.  *  And  do  you  move.  Move,  man,  and 
the  thing  will  be  done  while  you  are  talking  about 
it.     Set  the  door  into  the  garden  open — so.' 

'  Certainly,  it  is  a  fine  morning.  And  the 
tobacco  of  M.  le  Lieutenant —  But  M.  le  Capi- 
taine did  not — ' 

*Give  orders?  Well^  I  give  them,'  I  answered. 
'  First  of  all,  remove  these  beds.  And  bustle, 
man,  bustle,  or  I  will  find  something  to  quicken 
you  !' 

In  a  moment — 'And  M.  le  Capitaine's  riding- 
boots  ? ' 

'  Place  them  in  the  passage,'  I  replied. 

I  go 


THE  QUESTION  191 

'Oh6!  in  the  passage?'  He  paused,  looking 
at  them  in  doubt. 

'  Yes,  booby ;  in  the  passage. 

'  And  the  cloaks,  Monsieur  ? ' 

'There  is  a  bush  handy  outside  the  window. 
Let  them  air.' 

*0h6,  the  bush?  Well,  to  be  sure  they  are 
damp.  But — yes,  yes,  Monsieur,  it  is  done.  And 
the  holsters  ? ' 

'  There  also,'  I  said  harshly.  '  Throw  them  out 
Faugh !  The  place  reeks  of  leather.  Now,  a 
clean  hearth.  And  set  the  table  before  the  open 
door,  so  that  we  may  see  the  garden — so.  And 
tell  the  cook  that  we  dine  at  eleven,  and  that 
Madame  and  Mademoiselle  will  descend.' 

'  Oh6 !  But  M.  le  Capitaine  ordered  the  dinner 
for  half-past  eleven.' 

*  It  must  be  advanced,  then  ;  and,  mark  you,  my 
friend,  if  it  is  not  ready  when  Madame  comes 
down,  you  will  suffer,  and  the  cook  too.' 

When  he  was  gone  on  his  errand,  I  looked 
round.  What  else  was  lacking?  The  sun  shone 
cheerily  on  the  polished  floor ;   the  air   freshened 


192  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

by  the  rain  which  had  fallen  in  the  night,  entered 
freely  through  the  open  doorway.  A  few  bees 
lingering  with  the  summer  hummed  outside.  The 
fire  crackled  bravely ;  an  old  hound,  blind  and 
past  work,  lay  warming  its  hide  on  the  hearth.  I 
could  think  of  nothing  more,  and  I  stood  and 
stood  and  watched  the  man  set  out  the  table  and 
spread  the  cloth. 

'For  how    many.   Monsieur?'    he   asked   in   a 
scared  tone. 

'  For  five,'   I  answered ;    and  I  could  not  help 
smiling  at  myself. 

For  what  would  Zaton's  say  could  it  see  Berault 
turned  housewife  ?  There  was  a  white  glazed  cup, 
an  old-fashioned  piece  of  the  second  Henry's  time, 
standing  on  a  shelf  I  took  it  down  and  put 
some  late  flowers  in  it,  and  set  it  in  the  middle  of 
the  table,  and  stood  off  myself  to  look  at  it.  But 
a  moment  later,  thinking  I  heard  them  coming,  I 
'  hurried  it  away  in  a  kind  of  panic,  feeling  on  a 
sudden  ashamed  of  the  thing.  The  alarm  proved 
to  be  false,  however;  and  then  again,  taking 
another  turn,  I  set  the  piece  back.      I  had  done 


THE  QUESTION  193 

nothing  so  foolish  for — for  more  years  than  I 
liked  to  count. 

But  when  Madame  and  Mademoiselle  came 
down,  they  had  eyes  neither  for  the  flowers  nor 
the  room.  They  had  heard  that  the  Captain  was 
out  beating  the  village  and  the  woods  for  the  fugi- 
tive, and  where  I  had  looked  for  a  comedy  I  found 
a  tragedy.  Madame's  face  was  so  red  with  weep- 
ing that  all  her  beauty  was  gone.  She  started  and 
shook  at  the  slightest  sound,  and,  unable  to  find 
any  words  to  answer  my  greeting,  could  only  sink 
into  a  chair  and  sit  crying  silently. 

Mademoiselle  was  in  a  mood  scarcely  more 
cheerful.  She  did  not  weep,  but  her  manner  was 
hard  and  fierce.  She  spoke  absently,  and  an- 
swered fretfully.  Her  eyes  glittered,  and  she  had 
the  air  of  straining  her  ears  continually  to  catch 
some  dreaded  sound. 

*  There  is  no  news,  Monsieur  ? '  she  said  as  she 
took  her  seat.     And  she  shot  a  swift  look  at  me. 

*  None,  Mademoiselle.' 

'  They  are  searching  the  village  ? ' 

*  I  believe  so.' 


194  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'Where  is  Clon?'  This  in  a  lower  voice,  and 
with  a  kind  of  shrinking  in  her  face. 

I  shook  my  head.  '  I  believe  that  they  have 
him  confined  somewhere.  '  And  Louis,  too,'  I 
said.     '  But  I  have  not  seen  either  of  them.' 

'And  where  are —  I  thought  these  people 
would  be  here,'  she  muttered.  And  she  glanced 
askance  at  the  two  vacant  places.  The  servant 
had  brought  in  the  meal. 

'They  will  be  here  presently,'  I  said  coolly. 
Let  us  make  the  most  of  the  time.  A  little  wine 
and  food  will  do  Madame  good.' 

She  smiled  rather  sadly. 

'  I  think  that  we  have  changed  places,'  she 
said.  And  that  you  have  turned  host  and  we 
guests.' 

'  Let  it  be  so,'  I  said  cheerfully.  '  I  recommend 
some  of  this  ragoiit.  Come,  Mademoiselle,  fasting 
can  aid  no  one.  A  full  meal  has  saved  many  a 
man's  life.' 

It  was  clumsily  said,  perhaps;  for  she  shuddered 
and  looked  at  me  with  a  ghastly  smile.  But  she 
persuaded  her  sister  to  take  something  ;  and  she 


THE  QUESTION  195 

took  something  on  her  own  plate  and  raised  her 
fork  to  her  lips.  But  in  a  moment  she  laid  it 
down  again 

'  I  cannot,'  she  murmured.  '  I  cannot  swallow. 
Oh,  my  God,  at  this  moment  they  may  be  taking  him.' 
I  thought  that  she  was  about  to  burst  into 
a  passion  of  tears,  and  I  repented  that  I  had 
induced  her  to  descend.  But  her  self-  control 
was  not  yet  exhausted.  By  an  effort,  painful 
to  see,  she  recovered  her  composure.  She  took 
up  her  fork,  and,  and  ate  a  few  mouthfuls.  Then 
she  looked  at  me  with  a  fierce  under-look. 

'  I  want  to  see  Clon,'  she  whispered  feverishly. 
The  man  who  waited  on  us  had  left  the  room. 
'  He  knows  ? '  I  said. 

She  nodded,  her  beautiful  face  strangely  dis- 
figured. Her  closed  teeth  showed  between  her 
lips.  Two  red  spots  burned  in  her  white  cheeks, 
and  she  breathed  quickly.  I  felt,  as  I  looked 
at  her,  a  sudden  pain  at  my  heart,  and  a  shudder- 
ing fear,  such  as  a  man,  awaking  to  find  him- 
self falling  over  a  precipice,  might  feel.  How 
these  women  loved  the  man  ! 


196  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

For  a  moment  I  could  not  speak.  When  I 
found  my  voice  it  sounded  dry  and  husky. 

'He  is  a  safe  confidant,'  I  muttered.  *  He 
can  neither  read  nor  write,  Mademoiselle.' 

*  No,  but—'  and  then  her  face  became  fixed. 
'  They  are  coming,'  she  whispered.  '  Hush ! ' 
She  rose  stiffly,  and  stood  supporting  herself 
by  the  table.  'Have  they  —  have  they  —  found 
him?'  she  muttered.  The  woman  by  her  side 
wept  on,  unconscious  of  what  was  impending. 

I  heard  the  Captain  stumble  far  down  the 
passage,  and  swear  loudly ;  and  I  touched 
Mademoiselle's  hand. 

'  They  have  not ! '  I  whispered.  '  All  is  well, 
Mademoiselle.  Pray,  pray  calm  yourself  Sit 
down  and  meet  them  as  if  nothing  were  the 
matter.  And  your  sister!  Madame,  Madame,' 
I  cried,  almost  harshly,  '  compose  yourself.  Re- 
member that  you  have  a  part  to  play.' 

My  appeal  did  something.  Madame  stifled  her 
sobs.  Mademoiselle  drew  a  deep  breath  and 
sat  down ;  and  though  she  was  still  pale  and 
Lfill  trembled,  the  worst  was  past. 


THE  QUESTION  197 

And  only  just  in  time.  The  door  flew  open 
with  a  crash.  The  Captain  stumbled  into  the 
room,  swearing  afresh. 

*  Sacr^  nom  du  diahle ! '  he  cried,  his  face 
crimson  with  rage.  'What  fool  placed  these 
things  here?     My  boots?     My—* 

His  jaw  fell.  He  stopped  on  the  word,  stricken 
silent  by  the  new  aspect  of  the  room,  by  the 
sight  of  the  little  party  at  the  table,  by  all 
the  changes  I  had  worked. 

'Saint  Siege!'  he  muttered.  'What  is  this?' 
The  Lieutenant's  grizzled  face  peering  over  his 
shoulder  completed  the  picture. 

'You  are  rather  late,  M.  le  Capitaine,'  I  said 
cheerfully.  '  Madame's  hour  is  eleven.  But,  come, 
here  are  your  seats  waiting  for  you.' 

^  Milk  tonnerresV  he  muttered,  advancing  into 
the  room,  and  glaring  at  us. 

'  1  am  afraid  that  the  ragodt  is  cold,'  I  con- 
tinued, peering  into  the  dish  and  affecting  to  see 
nothing.  'The  soup,  however,  has  been  kept  hot 
by  the  fire.  But  I  think  that  you  do  not  see 
Madame.' 


igS  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

He  opened  his  mouth  to  swear,  but  for  the 
moment  he  thought  better  of  it. 

*  Who — who  put  my  boots  in  the  passage  ? ' 
he  asked,  his  voice  thick  with  rage.  He  did  not 
bow  to  the  ladies,  or  take  any  notice  of  their 
presence. 

'  One  of  the  men,  I  suppose,'  I  said  indiffer- 
ently.    '  Is  anything  missing  ? ' 

He  glared  at  me.  Then  his  cloak,  spread 
outside,  caught  his  eye.  He  strode  through 
the  door,  saw  his  holsters  lying  on  the  grass, 
and  other  things  strewn  about.     He  came  back. 

'  Whose  monkey  game  is  this  ? '  he  snarled, 
and  his  face  was  very  ugly.  '  Who  is  at  the 
bottom  of  this  ?     Speak,  sir,  or  I — ' 

'  Tut-tut, — the  ladies  ! '  I  said.  *  You  forget 
yourself,  Monsieur.' 

'Forget  myself?'  he  hissed,  and  this  time  he 
did  not  check  his  oath.  '  Don't  talk  to  me  of 
the  ladies !  Madame  ?  Bah !  Do  you  think, 
fool,  that  we  are  put  into  rebels'  houses  to  bow 
and  smile  and  take  dancing  lessons  ? ' 

'  In    this    case    a     lesson     in     politeness    were 


THE  QUESTION  199 

more  to  the  point,  Monsieur,'  I  said  sternly. 
And    I    rose. 

'  Was  it  by  your  orders  that  this  was  done  ? ' 
he  retorted,  his  brow  black  with  passion. 
'  Answer,  will   you  ? ' 

*  It   was  ! '    I    replied   outright. 

'Then  take  that!'  he  cried,  dashing  his  hat 
violently  in  my  face,  'and  come  outside.' 

'With  pleasure,  Monsieur,'  I  answered,  bow- 
ing; 'in  one  moment.  Permit  me  to  find  my 
sword.     I  think  that  it  is  in  the  passage.' 

I  went  thither  to  get  it. 

When  I  returned,  I  found  that  the  two  men 
were  waiting  for  me  in  the  garden,  while  the 
ladies  had  risen  from  the  table,  and  were 
standing   near   it   with   blanched   faces. 

'You  had  better  take  your  sister  upstairs, 
Mademoiselle,'  I  said  gently,  pausing  a  moment 
beside  them.     *  Have  no  fear.     All  will  be  well.' 

•But  what  is  it?'  she  answered,  looking 
troubled.  'It  was  so  sudden.  I  am— I  did 
not   understand.     You   quarrelled   so   quickly.' 

'It  is  very  simple,'   I   answered,  smiling     'M. 


zoo  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

ie  Capitaine  insulted  you  yesterday ;  he  will 
pay  for  it  to-day.  That  is  all.  Or,  not  quite 
all,'  I  continued,  dropping  my  voice  and  speaking 
in  a  different  tone.  *  His  removal  may  help  you, 
Mademoiselle.  Do  you  understand  ?  I  think  that 
there  will  be  no  more  searching  to-day.' 

She  uttered  an  exclamation,  grasping  my 
arm    and    peering   into   my   face. 

'  You   will   kill   him  ? '   she   muttered. 

I    nodded. 

•Why  not?'  I  said. 

She  caught  her  breath,  and  stood  with  one 
hand  clasped  to  her  bosom,  gazing  at  me  with 
parted  lips,  the  blood  mounting  to  her  cheeks. 
Gradually  the  flush  melted  into  a  fierce  smile. 

*Yes,  yes,  why  not?'  she  repeated  between 
her  teeth.  '  Why  not  ? '  She  had  her  hand  on 
my  arm,  and  I  felt  her  fingers  tighten  until 
I  could  have  winced.  'Why  not?  So  you 
planned   this — for  us,  Monsieur?' 

I    nodded. 

•  But   can   you  ? ' 

•  Safely,'    I    said  ;    then,    muttering    to    her    to 


THE  QUESTION  201 

take  her  sister  upstairs,  I  turned  towards  the 
garden.  My  foot  was  already  on  the  threshold, 
and  I  was  composing  my  face  to  meet  the  enemy, 
when  I  heard  a  movement  behind  me.  The 
next  moment  her  hand  was  on  my  arm. 

'  Wait !  Wait  a  moment !  Come  back  ! '  she 
panted.  I  turned.  The  smile  and  flush  had  van- 
ished; her  face  was  pale.  '  No!'  she  said  abruptly 
'  I  was  wrong !  I  will  not  have  it.  I  will  have 
no  part  in  it !  You  planned  it  last  night,  M.  de 
Barthe.     It  is  murder.' 

*  Mademoiselle ! '       I      exclaimed,      wondering. 

•  Murder  ?     Why  ?     It  is  a  duel.' 

'  It  is  murder,'  she  answered  persistently.  *  You 
planned  it  last  night.     You  said  so.' 

*  But  I  risk  my  own  life,'  I  replied  sharply. 
'Nevertheless — I    will  have   no   part  in  it,'  she 

ansv/ered  more  faintly.  She  was  trembling  with 
agitation.     Her  eyes  avoided  mine. 

*  On  my  shoulders  be  it  then  ! '  I  replied  stoutly. 

*  It  is  too  late.  Mademoiselle,  to  go  back.  They  are 
waiting  for  me.  Only  before  I  go,  let  me  beg  of 
you  to  retire.' 


202  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

And  I  turned  from  her,  and  went  out,  vvonderin^f 
and  thinking.  First,  that  women  were  strange 
things.  Secondly — murder?  Merely  because  I 
had  planned  the  duel  and  provoked  the  quarrel ! 
Never  had  I  heard  anything  so  preposterous.  Grant 
it,  and  dub  every  man  who  kept  his  honour  with 
his  hands  a  Cain — and  a  good  many  branded  faces 
would  be  seen  in  some  streets.  I  laughed  at  the 
fancy,  as  I  strode  down  the  garden  walk. 

And  yet,  perhaps,  I  was  going  to  do  a  foolish 
thing.  The  Lieutenant  would  still  be  here  :  a  hard- 
bitten man,  of  stiffer  stuff  than  his  Captain.  And 
the  troopers.  What  if,  when  I  had  killed  their 
leader,  they  made  the  place  too  hot  for  me,  Mon- 
seigneur's  commission  notwithstanding  ?  I  should 
look  silly,  indeed,  if  on  the  eve  of  success  I  were 
driven  from  the  place  by  a  parcel  of  jack-boots. 

I  liked  the  thought  so  little  that  I  hesitated.  Yet 
it  seemed  too  late  to  retreat.  The  Captain  and  the 
Lieutenant  were  waiting  for  me  in  a  little  open  space 
fifty  yards  from  the  house,  where  a  narrower  path 
crossed  the  broad  walk,  down  which  I  had  first  seen 
Mademoiselle  and  her  sister  pacing.    The  Captain 


THE  QUESTION  203 

had  removed  his  doublet,  and  stood  in  his  shirt  lean- 
ing against  the  sundial,  his  head  bare  and  his  sinewy- 
throat  uncovered.  He  had  drawn  his  rapier  and 
stood  pricking  the  ground  impatiently.  I  marked 
his  strong  and  nervous  frame  and  his  sanguine  air : 
and  twenty  years  earlier  the  sight  might  have 
damped  me.  But  no  thought  of  the  kind  entered 
my  head  now,  and  though  I  felt  with  each  mo- 
ment greater  reluctance  to  engage,  doubt  of  the 
issue  had  no  place  in  my  calculations. 

I  made  ready  slowly,  and  would  gladly,  to  gain 
time,  have  found  some  fault  with  the  place.  But 
the  sun  was  sufficiently  high  to  give  no  advantage 
to  either.  The  ground  was  good,  the  spot  well 
chosen.  I  could  find  no  excuse  to  put  off  the  man, 
and  I  was  about  to  salute  him  and  fall  to  work 
when  a  thought  crossed  my  mind. 

'  One  moment ! '  I  said.  '  Supposing  I  kill  you, 
M.  le  Capitaine,  what  becomes  of  your  errand 
here  ? ' 

'  Don't  trouble  yourself,'  he  answered  with  a 
sneer — he  had  misread  my  slowness  and  hesita- 
tion.    '  It   will   not   happen,   Monsieur      And   in 


204  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

any  case  the  thought  need  not  harass  you.  I 
have  a  Lieutenant' 

'  Yes,  but  what  of  my  mission  ? '  I  replied 
bluntly.    •  I  have  no  lieutenant.' 

'You  should  have  thought  of  that  before  you 
interfered  with  my  boots,'  he  retorted  with  con- 
tempt. 

'  True,'  I  said,  overlooking  his  manner.  '  But 
better  late  than  never.  I  am  not  sure,  now  I  think 
of  it,  that  my  duty  to  Monseigneur  will  let  me  fight' 

'  You  will  swallow  the  blow  ? '  he  cried,  spit- 
ting on  the  ground  offensively.  '  Diahle  ! '  And 
the  Lieutenant,  standing  on  one  side  with  his 
hands  behind  him  and  his  shoulders  squared, 
laughed  grimly. 

'  I  have  not  made  up  my  mind,'  I  answered 
irresolutely. 

*  Well,  nom  de  Dieu  !  make  it  up,'  the  Captain 
replied,  with  an  ugly  sneer.  He  took  a  swagger- 
ing step  this  way  and  that,  playing  his  weapon, 
'  I  am  afraid,  Lieutenant,  that  there  will  be  no 
sport  to-day,'  he  continued  in  a  loud  aside.  '  Our 
cock  has  but  a  chicken  heart' 


THE  QUESTION  205 

*  Well,'  I  said  coolly,  '  I  do  not  know  what  tc 
do.  Certainly  it  is  a  fine  day,  and  a  fair  piece 
of  ground.  And  the  sun  stands  well.  But  I 
have  not  much  to  gain  by  killing  you,  M.  le 
Capitaine,  and  it  might  get  me  into  an  awk- 
ward fix.  On  the  other  hand,  it  would  not  hurt 
me  to  let  you  go.' 

*  Indeed  ! '  he  said  contemptuously,  looking  at 
me  as  I  should  look  at  a  lackey. 

'  No ! '  I  replied.  '  For  if  you  were  to  say 
that  you  had  struck  Gil  de  Berault  and  left  the 
ground  with  a  whole  skin,  no  one  would  believe 
you.' 

'  Gil  de  Berault ! '  he  exclaimed  frowning. 

'Yes,  Monsieur,'  I  replied  suavely.  'At  your 
service.     You  did  not  know  my  name?' 

*  I  thought  that  your  name  was  De  Barthe,'  he 
said.  His  voice  sounded  queerly;  and  he  waited 
for  the  answer  with  parted  lips,  and  a  shadow 
in  his  eyes  which  I  had  seen  in  men's  eyes 
before. 

'  No,'  I  said  ;  '  that  '.vas  my  mother's  name.  I 
took  it  for  this  occasion  only.' 


2o6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

His  florid  cheek  lost  a  shade  of  its  colour, 
and  he  bit  his  lips  as  he  glanced  at  the  Lieu- 
tenant, trouble  in  his  eyes.  I  had  seen  these 
signs  before,  and  knew  them,  and  I  might  have 
cried  '  Chicken-heart ! '  in  my  turn ;  but  I  had 
not  made  a  way  of  escape  for  him  —  before  I 
declared  myself — for  nothing,  and  I  held  to  my 
purpose. 

'  I  think  you  will  allow  now,'  I  said  grimly, 
'that  it  will  not  harm  me  even  if  I  put  up  with 
a  blow ! ' 

'  M.  de  Berault's  courage  is  known,'  he  muttered. 

'  And  with  reason,'  I  said.  '  That  being  so, 
suppose  that  we  say  this  day  three  months,  M.  le 
Capitaine  ?  The  postponement  to  be  for  my  con- 
venience.* 

He  caught  the  Lieutenant's  eye  and  looked 
down  sullenly,  the  conflict  in  his  mind  as  plain 
as  daylight.  He  had  only  to  insist  and  I  must 
fight ;  and  if  by  luck  or  skill  he  could  master 
me  his  fame  as  a  duellist  would  run,  like  a 
ripple  over  water,  through  every  garrison 
town  in   France  and  make  him  a  name  even   in 


THE  QUESTION  207 

Paris,  On  the  other  side  were  the  imminent 
peril  of  death,  the  gleam  of  cold  steel  already 
in  fancy  at  his  breast,  the  loss  of  life  and 
sunshine,  and  the  possibility  of  a  retreat 
with  honour,  if  without  glory.  I  read 
his  face,  and  knew  before  he  spoke  what  he 
would    do. 

*  It  appears  to  me  that  the  burden  is  with 
you,'  he  said  huskily ;  '  but  for  my  part  I  am 
satisfied.' 

'  Very  well,'  I  said,  *  I  take  the  burden.  Per- 
mit me  to  apologise  for  having  caused  you  to 
strip  unnecessarily.  Fortunately  the  sun  is 
shining.' 

*Yes,'  he  said  gloomily.  And  he  took  his 
clothes  from  the  sundial  and  began  to  put 
them  on.  He  had  expressed  himself  satisfied, 
but  I  knew  that  he  was  feeling  very  ill-satisfied, 
indeed,  with  himself;  and  I  was  not  surprised 
when  he  presently  said  abruptly  and  almost 
rudely,  'There  is  one  thing  that  I  think  we 
must   settle  here.' 

'Yes?'  I  said.     'What  is  that?' 


2o8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'Our  positions/  he  blurted  out.  *0r  we  shall 
cross  one  another  again  within  the  hour.' 

*  Umph !  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  under- 
stand,' I  said. 

'That  is  precisely  what  I  don't  do — under- 
stand ! '  he  retorted,  in  a  tone  of  surly  triumph. 
'Before  I  came  on  this  duty,  I  was  told  that 
there  was  a  gentleman  here,  bearing  sealed 
orders  from  the  Cardinal  to  arrest  M.  de 
Cocheforet ;  and  I  was  instructed  to  avoid 
collision  with  him  so  far  as  might  be  possible. 
At  first  I  took  you  for  the  gentleman.  But  the 
plague  take  me  if  I  understand  the  matter  now.' 

'  Why  not  ? '  I  said  coldly. 

'  Because — well,  the  question  is  in  a  nutshell ! ' 
he  answered  impetuously.  '  Are  you  here  on 
behalf  of  Madame  de  Cocheforet,  to  shield  her 
husband  ?  Or  are  you  here  to  arrest  him  ? 
That  is  what  I  do  not  understand,  M.  de 
BeraulL' 

'  If  you  mean,  am  I  the  Cardinal's  agent — 
I   am  ! '     I  answered  sternly. 

'  To  arrest  M.  de  Cocheforet  ? ' 


THE  QUESTION  209 

'To  arrest  M.  de  CocheforeL' 

•  Well — you  surprise  me/  he  said. 

Only  that ;  but  he  spoke  so  drily  that  I  felt 
the  blood  rush  to  my  face. 

'Take  care,  Monsieur/  I  said  severely.  'Do 
not  presume  too  far  on  the  inconvenience  to 
virhich  your  death  might  put  me.' 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

'No  offence/  he  said.  But  you  do  not  seem, 
M.  de  Berault,  to  comprehend  the  difficulty. 
If  we  do  not  settle  things  now,  we  shall  be 
bickering  twenty  times  a  day.' 

•  Well,  what  do  you  want  ? '  I  asked  im- 
patiently. 

'  Simply  to  know  how  you  are  going  to  proceed. 
So  that  our  plans  may  not  clash.' 

'  But  surely,  M.  le  Capitaine,  that  is  my  affair/ 
I  said. 

'The  clashing?'  he  answered  bitterly.  Then 
he  waved  aside  my  wrath.  '  Pardon,'  he  said, 
'the  point  is  simply  this.  How  do  you  pro- 
pose to  find  him  if  he  is  here?' 

'That  again  is  my  affair/  I  answered. 


2IO  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

He  threw  up  his  hands  in  despair ;  but  in 
a  moment  his  place  was  taken  by  an  unex- 
pected disputant. 

The  Lieutenant,  who  had  stood  by  all  the 
time,  listening  and  tugging  at  his  grey  mous- 
tache, suddenly  spoke. 

'Look  here,  M.  de  Berault,'  he  said,  con- 
fronting me  roughly,  '  I  do  not  fight  duels.  I 
am  from  the  ranks.  I  proved  my  courage  at 
Montauban  in  '21,  and  my  honour  is  good 
enough  to  take  care  of  itself.  So  I  say  what 
I  like,  and  I  ask  you  plainly  what  M.  le 
Capitaine  doubtless  has  in  his  mind,  but  does 
not  ask :  Are  you  running  with  the  hare,  and 
hunting  with  the  hounds  in  this  matter?  In 
other  words,  have  you  thrown  up  Monselgneur's 
commission  in  all  but  name,  and  become 
Madame's  ally ;  or — it  is  the  only  other  alter- 
native— are  you  getting  at  the  man  through 
the   women  ? ' 

'  You  villain ! '  I  cried,  glaring  at  him  in 
such  a  rage  and  fury  that  I  could  scarcely 
get  the  words  out.     This  was  plain  speaking  with 


THE  QUESTION  211 

a  vengeance  !  '  How  dare  you  ?  How  dare  you 
say  that  I  am  false  to  the  hand  that  pays  me  ? ' 

I  thought  that  he  would  blench,  but  he  did 
not.     He  stood  up  stiff  as  a  poker. 

'  I  do  not  say ;  I  ask ! '  he  replied,  facing 
me  squarely,  and  slapping  his  fist  into  his  open 
hand  to  drive  home  his  words  the  better.  *  I 
ask  you  whether  you  are  playing  the  traitor 
to  the  Cardinal,  or  to  these  two  women?  It 
is   a   simple   question.' 

I  fairly  choked.  '  You  impudent  scoundrel ! '  I 
said. 

*  Steady,  steady  ! '  he  replied.  *  Pitch  sticks 
where  it  belongs,  and  nowhere  else.  But  that  is 
enough.  I  see  which  it  is,  M.  le  Capitaine; 
this  way  a  moment,  by   your  leave.' 

And  in  a  very  cavalier  fashion  he  took  his 
officer  by  the  arm,  and  drew  him  into  a  side- 
walk, leaving  me  to  stand  in  the  sun,  bursting 
with  anger  and  spleen.  The  gutter-bred  rascal ! 
That  such  a  man  should  insult  me,  and  with 
Impunity!  In  Paris,  I  might  have  made  him 
fight,  but  here  it  was  impossible. 


212  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  was  still  foaming  with  rage  when  they  returned. 

'We  have  come  to  a  determination/  the 
Lieutenant  said,  tugging  his  grey  moustachios, 
and  standing  like  a  ramrod.  *We  shall  leave 
you  the  house  and  Madame,  and  you  can  take 
your  own  line  to  find  the  man.  For  ourselves, 
we  shall  draw  off  our  men  to  the  village,  and 
we  shall  take  our  line.  That  is  all,  M.  le 
Capitaine,  is  it  not?' 

'  I  think  so,'  the  Captain  muttered,  looking 
anywhere   but   at   me. 

'  Then  we  bid  you  good -day,  Monsieur,'  the 
Lieutenant  added,  and  in  a  moment  he  turned 
his  companion  round,  and  the  two  retired  up 
the  walk  to  the  house,  leaving  me  to  look  after 
them  in  a  black  fit  of  rage  and  incredulity. 

At  the  first  flush,  there  was  something  so 
offensive  in  the  manner  of  their  going  that 
anger  had  the  upper  hand.  I  thought  of  the 
Lieutenant's  words,  and  I  cursed  him  to  hell 
with  a  sickening  consciousness  that  I  should 
not   forget   them    in    a   hurry. 

'  Was  I  playing  the  traitor  to  the  Cardinal  or  to 


THE  QUESTION  213 

these  women — which  ? '  Mo7i  Dku  !  if  ever  ques- 
tion— but  there,  some  day  I  would  punish  him. 
And  the  Captain  ?  I  could  put  an  end  to  his 
amusement,  at  any  rate  ;  and  I  would.  Doubtless 
among  the  country  bucks  of  Auch  he  lorded  it  as  a 
chief  provincial  bully,  but  I  would  cut  his  comb  for 
him  some  fine  morning  behind  the  barracks. 

And  then  as  I  grew  cooler  I  began  to  wonder 
why  they  were  going,  and  what  they  were  going  to 
do.  They  might  be  already  on  the  track,  or  have 
the  information  they  required  under  hand  ;  in  that 
case  I  could  understand  the  movement.  But  if 
they  were  still  searching  vaguely,  uncertain  whether 
their  quarry  were  in  the  neighbourhood  or  not,  and 
uncertain  how  long  they  might  have  to  stay,  it 
seemed  incredible  that  soldiers  should  move  from 
good  quarters  to  bad  without  motive. 

I  wandered  down  the  garden,  thinking  sullenly 
of  this,  and  pettishly  cutting  off  the  heads  of  the 
flowers  with  my  sheathed  sword.  After  all,  if  they 
found  and  arrested  the  man,  what  then?  I  should 
have  to  make  my  peace  with  the  Cardinal  as  I  best 
might.     He  would  have  gained  his  point,  but  not 


214  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

through  me,  and  I  should  have  to  look  to  myself. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  I  anticipated  them — and, 
as  a  fact,  I  believed  that  I  could  lay  my  hand  on 
the  fugitive  within  a  few  hours — there  would  come 
a  time  when  I  must  face  Mademoiselle. 

A  little  while  back  that  had  not  seemed  so 
difficult  a  thing.  From  the  day  of  our  first  meet- 
ing— and  in  a  higher  degree  since  that  afternoon 
when  she  had  lashed  me  with  her  scorn — my  views 
of  her,  and  my  feelings  towards  her,  had  been 
strangely  made  up  of  antagonism  and  sympathy  ;  of 
repulsion,  because  in  her  past  and  present  she  was  so 
different  from  me  ;  of  yearning,  because  she  was  a 
woman  and  friendless.  Later  I  had  duped  her  and 
bought  her  confidence  by  returning  the  jewels,  and 
so  in  a  measure  I  had  sated  my  vengeance ;  then, 
as  a  consequence,  sympathy  had  again  got  the 
better  of  me,  until  nov/  I  hardly  knew  my  own 
mind,  or  what  I  felt,  or  what  I  intended.  /  did 
not  know,  in  fact,  what  I  intended.  I  stood  there 
in  the  garden  with  that  conviction  suddenly  new- 
born in  my  mind  ;  and  then,  in  a  moment,  I 
heard  her  step,  and  I  turned  to  find  her  behind  me. 


THE  QUESTION  215 

Her  face  was  like  April,  smiles  breaking  through 
her  tears.  As  she  stood  with  a  tall  hedge  of  sun- 
flowers behind  her,  I  started  to  see  how  beautiful 
she  was. 

'  I  am  here  in  search  of  you,  M.  de  Barthe,'  she 
said,  colouring  slightly,  perhaps  because  my  eyes 
betrayed  my  thought ;  *  to  thank  you.  You  have 
not  fought,  and  yet  you  have  conquered.  My 
woman  has  just  been  with  me,  and  she  tells  me 
that  they  are  going.' 

*  Going  ? '  I  said.  *  Yes,  IVIademoiselle,  they  are 
leaving  the  house.' 

She  did  not  understand  my  reservation. 

'  What  magic  have  you  used  ? '  she  said  almost 
gaily ;  it  was  wonderful  how  hope  had  changed  her. 
'  Besides,  I  am  curious  to  learn  how  you  managed 
to  avoid  fighting.* 

'  After  taking  a  blow  ? '  I  said  bitterly. 

*  Monsieur,  I  did  not  mean  that,'  she  said  re- 
proachfully. 

But  her  face  clouded.  I  saw  that,  viewed  in  this 
light — in  which,  I  suppose,  she  had  not  hitherto 
— the  matter  perplexed  her  more  than  before. 


2i6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  took  a  sudden  resolution. 

'  Have  you  ever  heard,  Mademoiselle,'  I  said 
gravely,  plucking  off  while  I  spoke  the  dead  leaves 
from  a  plant  beside  me,  '  of  a  gentleman  by  name 
De  Berault?  Known  in  Paris,  I  have  heard,  by 
the  sobriquet  of  the  Black  Death  ? ' 

'  The  duellist  ? '  she  answered,  looking  at  me  in 
wonder.  •  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  him.  He  killed  a 
young  gentleman  of  this  province  at  Nancy  two 
years  back.  '  It  was  a  sad  story,'  she  continued, 
shuddering  slightly,  'of  a  dreadful  man.  God 
keep  our  friends  from  such ! ' 

'  Amen  ! '  I  said  quietly.  But,  in  spite  of  myself, 
I  could  not  meet  her  eyes. 

*  Why  ? '  she  answered,  quickly  taking  alarm  at 
my  silence.  '  What  of  him,  M.  de  Barthe  ?  Why 
have  you  mentioned  him  ? ' 

'  Because  he  is  here.  Mademoiselle,' 

'  Here  ?  '  she  exclaimed.     '  At  Cociieforet  ? ' 

'  Yes,  Mademoiselle,'  I  answered  soberly.  '  I 
am  he.' 


CHAPTER     X 

CLON 

'"V70UI'  she  cried,  in  a  voice  which  pierced 
my  heart  '  You  are  M.  de  Berault  ?  It 
is  impossible  ! '  But,  glancing  askance  at  her — I 
could  not  face  her — I  saw  that  the  blood  had 
left  her  cheeks. 

'  Yes,  Mademoiselle,*  I  answered  in  a  low  tone. 
'  De  Barthe  was  my  mother's  name.  When  I 
came  here,  a  stranger,  I  took  it  that  I  might  not 
be  known  ;  that  I  might  again  speak  to  a  good 
woman,  and  not  see  her  shrink.  That,  and — but 
why  trouble  you  with  all  this  ? '  I  continued  re- 
belling, against  her  silence,  her  turned  shoulder, 
her  averted  face.     'You  asked  me.  Mademoiselle, 


2i8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROES 

how  I  could  take  a  blow  and  let  the  striker  go. 
I  have  answered.  It  is  the  one  privilege  M.  de 
Berault  possesses.' 

'Then/  she  replied  almost  in  a  whisper,  'if  I 
were  M.  de  Berault,  I  would  avail  myself  of  it, 
and  never  fight  again.' 

'  In  that  event,  Mademoiselle,'  I  answered  coldly, 
'  I  should  lose  my  men  friends  as  well  as  my 
women  friends.  Like  Monseigneur  the  Cardinal, 
rule  by  fear.' 

She  shuddered,  either  at  the  name  or  at  the 
idea  my  words  called  up  ;  and,  for  a  moment,  we 
stood  awkwardly  silent.  The  shadow  of  the  sun- 
dial fell  between  us  ;  the  garden  was  still ;  here 
and  there  a  leaf  fluttered  slowly  down.  With 
each  instant  of  that  silence,  of  that  aversion,  I 
felt  the  gulf  between  us  growing  wider,  I  felt 
myself  growing  harder ;  I  mocked  at  her  past 
which  was  so  unlike  mine  ;  I  mocked  at  mine, 
and  called  it  fate.  I  was  on  the  point  of  turn- 
ing from  her  with  a  bow — and  with  a  furnace  in 
my  breast — when  she  spoke. 

'  There  is  a  last  rose  lingering  there,'  she  said, 


CLON  219 

a  slight  tremor  in  her  voice.  '  I  cannot  reach  it. 
Will  you  pluck  it  for  me,  M.  de  Berault  ? ' 

I  obeyed  her,  my  hand  trembling,  my  face  on 
fire.  She  took  the  rose  from  me,  and  placed  it 
in  the  bosom  of  her  dress.  And  I  saw  that  her 
hand  trembled  too,  and  that  her  cheek  was  dark 
with  blushes. 

She  turned  without  more,  and  began  to  walk 
towards  the  house.  '  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should 
misjudge  you  a  second  time ! '  she  said  in  a  low 
voice.  '  And,  after  all,  who  am  I  that  I  should 
judge  you  at  all  ?  An  hour  ago,  I  would  have 
killed  that  man  had  I  possessed  the  power.' 

'  You  repented,  Mademoiselle,'  I  said  huskily. 
I  could  scarcely  speak. 

'  Do  you  never  repent  ? '  she  said. 

'  Yes.     But  too  late.  Mademoiselle.' 

•  Perhaps  it  is  never  too  late,'  she  answered 
softly. 

'Alas,  when  a  man  is  dead — ' 

'  You  may  rob  a  man  of  worse  than  life  ! '  she 
replied  with  energy,  stopping  me  by  a  gesture. 
'  If  you  have  never  robbed  a  man — or  a  woman 


220  UNDER  THE  RED  P^OBE 

— of  honour  !  If  you  have  never  mined  boy  or 
girl,  M.  de  Berault!  If  you  have  never  pushed 
another  into  the  pit  and  gone  by  it  yourself! 
If — but,  for  murder  ?  Listen.  You  are  a  Roman- 
ist, but  I  am  a  Huguenot,  and  have  read.  *'  Thou 
shalt  not  kill !  "  it  is  written ;  and  the  penalty 
"  By  man  shall  thy  blood  be  shed  ! "  But,  "  If 
you  cause  one  of  these  little  ones  to  offend,  it 
were  better  for  you  that  a  mill -stone  were  hanged 
about  your  neck,  and  that  you  were  cast  into 
the  depths  of  the  sea." ' 

'Mademoiselle,  you  are  merciful,'  I  muttered. 

'I  need  mercy  myself,'  she  answered,  sighing. 
•And  I  have  had  few  temptations.  How  do 
I  know  what  you  have  suffered?' 

'  Or  done  ! '  I  said,  almost  rudely. 

*  Where  a  man  has  not  lied,  nor  betrayed,  nor 
sold  himself  or  others,'  she  answered  in  a  low 
tone,  '  I  think  I  can  forgive  all  else.  I  can 
better  put  up  with  force,'  she  added  smiling 
sadly,  '  than  with  fraud.' 

Ah,  Dicu  !  I  turned  away  my  face  that  she 
might  not   see  how  pale  it  grew  ;  that  she  might 


CLON  221 

not  guess  how  her  words,  meant  in  mercy,  stabbed 
me  to  the  heart.  And  yet,  then,  for  the  first 
time,  while  viewing  in  all  its  depth  and  width  the 
gulf  which  separated  us,  I  was  not  hardened  ; 
I  was  not  cast  back  upon  myself.  Her  gentle- 
ness, her  pity,  her  humility  softened  me,  while 
they  convicted  me.  My  God,  how,  after  this, 
could  I  do  that  which  I  had  come  to  do  ?  How 
could  I  stab  her  in  the  tenderest  part,  how  could 
I  inflict  on  her  that  rending  pang,  how  could  I 
meet  her  eyes,  and  stand  before  her,  a  Caliban, 
a  Judas,  the  vilest,  lowest  thing  she  could  con- 
ceive ? 

I  stood,  a  moment,  speechless  and  disordered  ; 
overcome  by  her  words,  by  my  thoughts.  I  have 
seen  a  man  so  stand  when  he  has  lost  all  at  the 
tables.  Then  I  turned  to  her  ;  and  for  an  instant 
I  thought  that  my  tale  was  told  already,  I  thought 
that  she  had  pierced  my  disguise.  For  her  face 
was  changed — stricken  as  with  fear.  The  next 
moment,  I  saw  that  she  was  not  looking  at  me, 
but  beyond  me ;  and  I  turned  quickly  and  saw  a 
servant  hurrying  from  the  house  to   us.     It  was 

Q 


222  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

Louis.  His  eyes  were  staring,  his  hair  waved, 
his  cheeks  were  flabby  with  dismay.  He  breathed 
as  if  he  had  been  running. 

'  What  is  it  ? '  Mademoiselle  cried,  while  he  was 
still  some  way  off.  '  Speak,  man.  My  sister  ?  Is 
she—' 

•  Clon,'  he  gasped. 

The  name  changed  her  to  stone. 

'  Clon  ?     What  of  him  ? '  she  muttered. 

'In  the  village!'  Louis  panted,  his  tongue 
stuttering  with  terror.  '  They  are  flogging  him ! 
They  are  killing  him  !     To  make  him  tell ! ' 

Mademoiselle  grasped  the  sundial  and  leant 
against  it,  her  face  colourless ;  and,  for  an  instant, 
I  thought  that  she  was  fainting. 

'  Tell  ? '  I  said  mechanically.  *  But  he  cannot 
tell.     He  is  dumb,  man.' 

'  They  will  make  him  guide  them,'  Louis  groaned, 
covering  his  ears  with  his  shaking  hands,  his  face 
the  colour  of  paper.  '  And  his  cries  !  Oh,  Mon- 
sieur, go,  go ! '  he  continued,  in  a  thrilling  tone. 
'Save  him.  All  through  the  wood  I  heard  his 
cries.     It  was  horrible !  horrible  ! ' 


CLON  223 

Mademoiselle  uttered  a  moan  of  pain ;  and  I 
turned  to  support  her,  thinking  each  second  to 
see  her  fall.  But  with  a  sudden  movement  she 
straightened  herself,  and,  quickly  slipping  by  me, 
with  eyes  that  seemed  to  see  nothing,  she  set  off 
swiftly  down  the  walk  towards  the  meadow 
gate. 

I  ran  after  her ;  but,  taken  by  surprise  as  I  was, 
it  was  only  by  a  great  effort  I  reached  the  gate 
before  her,  and  thrusting  myself  in  the  road,  barred 
the  way. 

*  Let  me  pass  ! '  she  panted,  striving  to  thrust  me 
on  one  side.  '  Out  of  my  way,  sir !  I  am  going 
to  the  village.' 

'  You  are  not  going  to  the  village,'  I  said  sternly. 
'  Go  back  to  the  house.  Mademoiselle,  and  at  once.' 

'  My  servant ! '  she  wailed.  '  Let  me  go !  Let 
me  go !  Do  you  think  I  can  rest  here  while  they 
torture  him?  He  cannot  speak,  and  they — 
they—' 

'Go  back,  Mademoiselle,'  I  said,  with  decision. 
*  Your  presence  would  only  make  matters  worse ! 
I  will  go  myself,  and  what  one  man  can  do  against 


224  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

many,  I  will !     Louis,  give  your  mistress  your  arm 
and  take  her  to  the  house.     Take  her  to  Madame.' 

'  But  you  will  go  ? '  she  cried.  And  before  I 
could  stay  her — I  swear  I  would  have  stopped 
her  if  I  could — she  raised  my  hand  and  carried 
it  to  her  trembling  lips.  *  You  will  go !  Go  and 
stop  them !  Stop  them,  and  Heaven  reward  you, 
Monsieur  ! ' 

I  did  not  answer ;  nay,  I  did  not  once  look 
back,  as  I  crossed  the  meadow ;  but  I  did  not 
look  forward  either.  Doubtless  it  was  grass  I 
trod,  and  the  wood  was  before  me  with  the  sun 
shining  aslant  on  it ;  doubtless  the  house  rose  be- 
hind me  with  a  flame  here  and  there  in  the  windows. 
But  I  went  in  a  dream,  among  shadows  ;  with  a 
racing  pulse,  in  a  glow  from  head  to  heel ;  conscious 
of  nothing  but  the  touch  of  Mademoiselle's  warm 
lips  on  my  hand,  seeing  neither  meadow  nor  house, 
oor  even  the  dark  fringe  of  wood  before  me,  but 
only  Mademoiselle's  passionate  face.  For  the 
moment  I  was  drunk  :  drunk  with  that  to  which 
I  had  been  so  long  a  stranger,  with  that  which 
a    man    may   scorn    for   years,  to    find    it   at  last 


CLON  2  25 

bej'ond   his   reach  —  drunk   with   the   touch   of  a 
good  woman's  lips. 

1  passed  the  bridge  in  this  state ;  and  my 
feet  were  among  the  brushwood  before  the 
heat  and  fervour  in  which  I  moved  found  on  a 
sudden  their  direction.  Something  began  to 
penetrate  to  my  veiled  senses — a  hoarse  inarticu- 
late cry,  now  deep,  now  shrilling  horribly,  that 
of  itself  seemed  to  fill  the  wood.  It  came  at 
intervals  of  half  a  minute  or  so,  and  made  the 
flesh  creep,  it  rang  so  full  of  dumb  pain,  of  im- 
potent wrestling,  of  unspeakable  agony.  I  am 
a  man  and  have  seen  things.  I  saw  the  Concini 
beheaded,  and  Chalais  ten  years  later — they  gave 
him  thirty-four  blows ;  and  when  I  was  a  boy  I 
escaped  from  the  college  and  viewed  from  a  great 
distance  Ravaillac  torn  by  horses — that  was  in 
the  year  ten.  But  the  horrible  cries  I  now  heard, 
filled  me,  perhaps  because  I  was  alone  and  fresh 
from  the  sight  of  Mademoiselle,  with  loathing 
inexpressible.  The  very  wood,  though  the  sun 
had  not  yet  set,  seemed  to  grow  dark.  I  ran  on 
through  it,  cursing,  until  the  hovels  of  the  village 


2  26  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

came  in  sight.  Again  the  shriek  rose,  a  pulsing 
horror ;  and  this  time  I  could  hear  the  lash  fall  on 
the  sodden  flesh,  I  could  see  in  fancy  the  dumb  man, 
trembling,  quivering,  straining  against  his  bonds. 
And  then,  in  a  moment,  I  was  in  the  street,  and, 
as  the  scream  once  more  tore  the  air,  I  dashed 
round  the  corner  by  the  inn,  and  came  upon  them. 

I  did  not  look  at  him^  but  I  saw  Captain 
Larolle  and  the  Lieutenant,  and  a  ring  of  troopers, 
and  one  man,  bare-armed,  teasing  out  with  his 
fingers  the  thongs  of  a  whip.  The  thongs  dripped 
blood,  and  the  sight  fired  the  mine.  The  rage  I 
had  suppressed  when  the  Lieutenant  bearded  me 
earlier  in  the  afternoon,  the  passion  with  which 
Mademoiselle's  distress  had  filled  my  breast,  on 
the  instant  found  vent.  I  sprang  through  the  line 
of  soldiers ;  and  striking  the  man  with  the  whip 
a  buffet  between  the  shoulders,  which  hurled 
him  breathless  to  the  ground,  1  turned  on  the 
leaders. 

•  You  fiends  ! '  I  cried.  '  Shame  on  you  !  The 
man  is  dumb  !  Dumb  ;  and  if  I  had  ten  men  with 
me,  I  would  sweep  you  and  your  scum  out  of  the 


I  Sprang  through  the  Line  of  Soldiers. 


CLON 


22' 


village  with  broomsticks.  Lay  on  another  lash/  I 
continued  recklessly,  *  and  I  will  see  whether  you 
or  the  Cardinal  be  the  stronger.' 

The  Lieutenant  glared  at  me,  his  grey  moustache 
bristling,  his  eyes  almost  starting  from  his  head. 
Some  of  the  troopers  laid  their  hands  on  their 
swords,  but  no  one  moved,  and  only  the  Captain 
spoke. 

'Mille  diables!'  he  swore.  'What  is  all  this 
about  ?     Are  you  mad,  sir  ? ' 

'  Mad  or  sane  ! '  I  cried  furiously.  '  Lay  on 
another  lash,  and  you  shall  repent  it' 

For  an  instant  there  was  a  pause  of  astonish- 
ment. Then,  to  my  surprise,  the  Captain  laughed 
— laughed  loudly. 

*  Very  heroic,'  he  said.  '  Quite  magnificent,  M. 
Chevalier-errant  But  you  see,  unfortunately,  you 
come  too  late.' 

*  Too  late,'  I  said  incredulously. 

'  Yes,  too  late,'  he  replied,  with  a  mocking  smile. 
And  the  Lieutenant  grinned  too.  •  Unfortunately, 
you  see,  the  man  has  just  confessed.  We  have 
only  been  giving  him  an  extra  touch  or  two,  to 


228  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

impress  his  memory,  and   save  us  the  trouble  of 
lashing  him  up  again. 

'  I  don't  believe  it,'  I  said  bluntly — but  I  felt 
the  check,  and  fell  to  earth.  '  The  man  cannot 
speak.' 

'  No,  but  he  has  managed  to  tell  us  what  we 
want ;  that  he  will  guide  us  to  the  place  we  are 
seeking,'  the  Captain  answered  drily.  '  The  whip, 
if  it  cannot  find  a  man  a  tongue,  can  find  him 
wits.  What  is  more,  I  think  that  he  will  keep 
his  word,'  he  continued,  with  a  hideous  scowl. 
'  For  1  warn  him  that  if  he  does  not,  all  your 
heroics  shall  not  save  him.  He  is  a  rebel  dog, 
and  known  to  us  of  old  ;  and  I  will  flay  his  back 
to  the  bones,  ay,  until  we  can  see  his  heart  beat- 
ing through  his  ribs,  but  I  will  have  what  I  want 
— in  your  teeth,  too,  you  d — d  meddler.' 

'  Steady,  steady ! '  I  said,  sobered.  I  saw 
that  he  was  telling  the  truth.  '  Is  he  going  to 
take  you  to  M.  de  Cochcforct's  hiding-place?' 

'Yes,  he  is!'  the  Captain  retorted.  'Have  you 
any  objection  to  that,  Master  Spy  ? ' 

'  None,'  I  replied.     '  Only  I  shall  go  with  you 


CLON  2=9 

And  if  you  live  three  months,  I  shall  kill  you 
for  that  name — behind  the  barracks  at  Auch,  M. 
le  Capitaine.' 

He  changed  colour,  but  he  answered  me  boldly 
enough. 

'  I  don't  know  that  you  will  go  with  us,'  he  said, 
with  a  snarl.    *  That  is  as  we  please.' 

'  I  have  the  Cardinal's  orders,'  I  said  sternly. 

'  The  Cardinal  ? '  he  exclaimed,  stung  to  fury 
by  this  repetition  of  the  name.  '  The  Cardinal 
be— • 

But  the  Lieutenant  laid  his  hand  on  his  lips  and 
stopped  him. 

'  Hush  ! '  he  said.  Then  more  quietly,  *  Your 
pardon,  M.  le  Capitaine;  but  the  least  said  the 
soonest  mended.  Shall  I  give  orders  to  the  men 
to  fall  in  ? ' 

The  Captain  nodded  sullenly. 

The  Lieutenant  turned  to  his  prisoner. 

'  Take  him  down  ! '  he  commanded,  in  his  harsh, 
monotonous  voice.  '  Throw  his  blouse  over  him, 
and  tie  his  hands.  And  do  you  two,  Paul  and 
Lebrun,  guard  him.     Michel,  bring  the  whip,  or  he 


230  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

may  forget  how  it  tastes.     Sergeant,  choose  four 
good  men,  and  dismiss  the  rest  to  their  quarters.' 

*  Shall  we  need  the  horses  ? '  the  sergeant  asked. 

*  I  don't  know,'  the  Captain  answered  peevishly. 
'  What  does  the  rogue  say  ? ' 

The  Lieutenant  stepped  up  to  him. 

'  Listen  ! '  he  said  grimly.  '  Nod  if  you  mean 
yes,  and  shake  your  head  if  you  mean  no.  And 
have  a  care  you  answer  truly.  Is  it  more  than  a 
mile  to  this  place  ? ' 

They  had  loosened  the  poor  wretch's  fastenings, 
and  covered  his  back.  He  stood  leaning  his 
shoulder  against  the  wall,  his  mouth  still  panting, 
the  sweat  running  down  his  hollow  cheeks.  His 
sunken  eyes  were  closed,  but  a  quiver  now  and 
again  ran  through  his  frame.  The  Lieutenant 
repeated  his  question,  and,  getting  no  answer, 
looked  round  for  orders.  The  Captain  met  the 
look,  and  crying  savagely,  '  Answer  will  you,  you 
mule ! '  struck  the  half-swooning  miserable  across 
the  back  with  his  switch.  The  effect  was  magical. 
Covered,  as  his  shoulders  were,  the  man  sprang 
erect  with  a  shriek  of  pain,  raising  his  chin,  and 


CLON  aai 

hollowing  his  back  ;  and  in  that  attitude  stood  an 
instant  with  starting  eyes,  gasping  for  breath.  Then 
he  sank  back  against  the  wall,  moving  his  mouth 
spasmodically.     His  face  was  the  colour  of  lead. 

*  Diable  !  I  think  that  we  have  gone  too  far  with 
him  ! '  the  Captain  muttered. 

'  Bring    some    wine ! '    the    Lieutenant  replied. 
'Quick  with  it!' 

I  looked  on,  burning  with  indignation,  and  in 
some  excitement  besides.  For  if  the  man  took 
them  to  the  place,  and  they  succeeded  in  seizing 
Cocheforet,  there  was  an  end  of  the  matter  as  far 
as  I  was  concerned.  It  was  off  my  shoulders,  and 
I  might  leave  the  village  when  I  pleased ;  nor  was 
it  likely — since  he  would  have  his  man,  though  not 
through  me  —  that  the  Cardinal  would  refuse  to 
grant  me  an  amnesty.  On  the  whole,  I  thought  that 
he  would  prefer  that  things  should  take  this  course ; 
and  assuming  the  issue,  I  began  to  wonder  whether 
it  would  be  necessary  in  that  event  that  Madame 
should  know  the  truth.  I  had  a  kind  of  vision  of 
a  reformed  Berault,  dead  to  play  and  purging  him- 
self at  a  distance  from  Zaton's;  v/inning,  perhaps,  a 


252  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 


name  in  the  Italian  war,  and  finally — but,  pshaw ! 
I  was  a  fool. 

However,  be  these  things  as  they  might,  it  was 
essential  that  I  should  see  the  arrest  made ;  and 
I  waited  patiently  while  they  revived  the  tortured 
man,  and  made  their  dispositions.  These  took 
some  time ;  so  that  the  sun  was  down,  and  it  was 
growing  dusk  when  we  marched  out,  Clon  going 
first,  supported  by  his  two  guards,  the  Captain 
and  I  following — abreast,  and  eyeing  one  another 
suspiciously;  the  Lieutenant,  with  the  sergeant  and 
five  troopers,  bringing  up  the  rear.  Clon  moved 
slowly,  moaning  from  time  to  time;  and  but  for 
the  aid  given  him  by  the  two  men  with  him, 
must  have  sunk  down  again  and  again. 

He  led  the  way  out  between  two  houses  close  to 
the  inn,  and  struck  a  narrow  track,  scarcely  dis- 
cernible, which  ran  behind  other  houses,  and  then 
plunged  into  the  thickest  part  of  the  wood.  A 
single  person,  traversing  the  covert,  might  have 
made  such  a  track  ;  or  pigs,  or  children.  But  it 
was  the  first  idea  that  occurred  to  us,  and  put  us 
all  on  the  alert.      The  Captain  carried   a  cocked 


CLON  233 

pistol,  I  held  my  sword  drawn,  and  kept  a  watch- 
ful eye  on  him;  and  the  deeper  the  dusk  fell  in 
the  wood,  the  more  cautiously  we  went,  until  at 
last  we  came  out  with  a  sort  of  jump  into  a  wider 
and  lighter  path. 

I  looked  up  and  down,  and  saw  behind  me  a 
vista  of  tree-trunks,  before  me  a  wooden  bridge 
and  an  open  meadow,  lying  cold  and  grey  in 
the  twilight  ;  and  I  stood  in  astonishment.  We 
were  in  the  old  path  to  the  Chateau !  I  shivered 
at  the  thought  that  he  was  going  to  take  us 
there,  to  the  house,  to  Mademoiselle ! 

The  Captain  also  recognised  the  place,  and  swore 
aloud.  But  the  dumb  man  went  on  unheeding 
until  he  reached  the  wooden  bridge.  There  he 
stopped  short,  and  looked  towards  the  dark  outline 
of  the  house,  which  was  just  visible,  one  faint  light 
twinkling  sadly  in  the  west  wing.  As  the  Captain 
and  I  pressed  up  behind  him,  he  raised  his  hands 
and  seemed  to  wring  them  towards  the  house. 

*  Have  a  care  ! '  the  Captain  growled.  '  Play  me 
no  tricks,  or — ' 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  for  Clon,  as  if  he 


234  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

well  understood  his  impatience,  turned  back  from 
the  bridge,  and,  entering  the  wood  to  the  left, 
began  to  ascend  the  bank  of  the  stream.  We 
had  not  gone  a  hundred  yards  before  the  ground 
grew  rough,  and  the  undergrowth  thick ;  and 
yet  through  all  ran  a  kind  of  path  which  enabled 
us  to  advance,  dark  as  it  was  now  growing. 
Very  soon  the  bank  on  which  we  moved  began 
to  rise  above  the  water,  and  grew  steep  and 
rugged.  We  turned  a  shoulder,  where  the  stream 
swept  round  a  curve,  and  saw  we  were  in  the 
mouth  of  a  small  ravine,  dark  and  sheer-sided. 
The  water  brawled  along  the  bottom,  over  boulders 
and  through  chasms.  In  front,  the  slope  on  which 
we  stood  shaped  itself  into  a  low  cliff;  but  halfway 
between  its  summit  and  the  water  a  ledge,  or 
narrow  terrace,  running  along  the  face,  was  dimly 
visible. 

•  Ten  to  one,  a  cave  ! '  the  Captain  muttered.    '  It 
is  a  likely  place.' 

'  And  an  ugly   one ! '    I    replied    with    a    sneer. 
'  Which  one  against  ten  might  hold  for  hours ! ' 

•  I  f  the  ten  had  no  pistols — yes  ! '  he  answered 


CLOxN  235 

viciously.  '  But  you  see  we  have.  Is  he  going 
that  way  ? ' 

He  was.  As  soon  as  this  was  clear,  Larolle 
turned  to  his  comrade. 

'  Lieutenant,'  he  said,  speaking  in  a  low  voice, 
though  the  chafing  of  the  stream  below  us  covered 
ordinary  sounds ;  *  what  say  you  ?  Shall  we  light 
the  lanthorns,  or  press  on  while  there  is  still  a 
glimmering  of  day  ?  ' 

*  On,  I  should  say,  M.  le  Capitaine,'  the  Lieutenant 
answered.  *  Prick  him  in  the  back  if  he  falters.  I 
will  warrant,'  the  brute  added  with  a  chuckle,  '  he 
has  a  tender  place  or  two.' 

The  Captain  gave  the  word  and  we  moved  for- 
ward. It  was  evident  now  that  the  cliff-path  was  our 
destination.  It  was  possible  for  the  eye  to  follow 
the  track  all  the  way  to  it,  through  rough  stones 
and  brushwood  ;  and  though  Clon  climbed  feebly, 
and  with  many  groans,  two  minutes  saw  us  step 
on  to  it.  It  did  not  prove  to  be,  in  fact,  the  perilous 
place  it  looked  at  a  distance.  The  ledge,  grassy 
and  terrace-like,  sloped  slightly  downwards  and 
outwards,  and  In  parts  was  slippery ;  but  it  v/as  as 


236  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

wide  as  a  highway,  and  the  fall  to  the  water  did 
not  exceed  thirty  feet  Even  in  such  a  dim  light 
as  now  displayed  it  to  us,  and  by  increasing  the 
depth  and  unseen  dangers  of  the  gorge  gave  a  kind 
of  impressiveness  to  our  movements,  a  nervous 
woman  need  not  have  feared  to  tread  it.  I  won- 
dered how  often  Mademoiselle  had  passed  along  it 
with  her  milk-pitcher. 

'  I  think  that  we  have  him  now,'  Captain 
Larolle  muttered,  twisting  his  moustachios,  and 
looking  about  to  make  his  last  dispositions.  *  Paul 
and  Lebrun,  see  that  your  man  makes  no  noise. 
Serjeant,  come  forward  with  your  carbine,  but  do 
not  fire  without  orders.  Now,  silence  all,  and 
close  up.  Lieutenant.     Forward  ! ' 

We  advanced  about  a  hundred  paces,  keeping 
the  cliff  on  our  left,  turned  a  shoulder,  and  saw,  a 
few  paces  in  front  of  us  a  slight  hollow,  a  black 
blotch  in  the  grey  duskiness  of  the  cliff-side. 
The  prisoner  stopped,  and,  raising  his  bound 
hands,  pointed  to  it. 

'  There  ? '  the  Captain  whispered,  pressing  for- 
ward.    '  Is  it  the  place 


CLON  237 

Clon  nodded.  The  Captain's  voice  shook  with 
excitement 

'  Paul  and  Lebrun  remain  here  with  the  prisoner,' 
he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  '  Sergeant,  come  forward 
with  me.     Now,  are  you  ready  ?     Forward  ! ' 

At  the  word  he  and  the  sergeant  passed  quickly, 
one  on  either  side  of  Clon  and  his  guards.  The 
path  grew  narrow  here,  and  the  Captain  passed 
outside.  The  eyes  of  all  but  one  were  on  the  black 
blotch,  the  hollow  in  the  cliff-side,  expecting  we 
knew  not  what — a  sudden  shot  or  the  rush  of  a 
desperate  man  ;  and  no  one  saw  exactly  what  hap- 
pened. But  somehow,  as  the  Captain  passed  abreast 
of  him,  the  prisoner  thrust  back  his  guards,  and 
leaping  sideways,  flung  his  unbound  arms  round 
Larolle's  body,  and  in  an  instant  swept  him, 
shouting,  to  the  verge  of  the  precipice. 

It  was  done  in   a   moment.     By  the  time  our 

startled  wits  and  eyes  were  back  with  them,  the 

two  were  already  tottering  on  the  edge,  looking  in 

the  gloom  like  one  dark  form.     The  sergeant,  who 

was  the  first  to  find  his  head,  levelled  his  carbine, 

but,  as  the  wrestlers  twirled  and  twisted,  the  Captain, 

R 


238  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

shrieking  out  oaths  and  threats,  the  mute  silent  as 
death,  it  was  impossible  to  see  which  was  which, 
and  the  sergeant  lowered  his  gun  again,  while  the 
men  held  back  nervously.  The  ledge  sloped 
steeply  there,  the  edge  was  vague,  already  the  two 
seemed  to  be  wrestling  in  mid  air ;  and  the  mute 
was  desperate. 

That  moment  of  hesitation  was  fatal.  Clon's  long 
arms  were  round  the  other's  arms,  crushing  them 
into  his  ribs ;  Clon's  skull-like  face  grinned  hate 
into  the  other's  eyes  ;  his  bony  limbs  curled  round 
him  like  the  folds  of  a  snake.  Larolle's  strength 
gave  way. 

'  Damn  you  all !  Why  don't  you  come  up  ? '  he 
cried.  And  then,  '  Ah  1  Mercy !  mercy ! '  came  in 
one  last  scream  from  his  lips.  As  the  Lieutenant, 
taken  aback  before,  sprang  forward  to  his  aid,  the 
two  toppled  over  the  edge,  and  in  a  second  hurtled 
out  of  sight 

'  Mon  Dieu  !  '  the  Lieutenant  cried  ;  the  answer 
was  a  dull  splash  in  the  depths  below.  He  flung 
up  his  arms.  '  Water ! '  he  said.  '  Quick,  men,  get 
down.     We  may  save  him  yet.' 


CLON  339 

But  there  was  no  path,  and  night  was  come,  and 
the  men's  nerves  were  shaken.  The  lanthorns  had 
to  be  lit,  and  the  way  to  be  retraced  ;  by  the  time 
we  reached  the  dark  pool  which  lay  below,  the  last 
bubbles  were  gone  from  the  surface,  the  last  ripples 
had  beaten  themselves  out  against  the  banks.  The 
pool  still  rocked  sullenly,  and  the  yellow  light 
showed  a  man's  hat  floating,  and  near  it  a  glove 
three  parts  submerged.  But  that  was  all.  The 
mute's  dying  grip  had  known  no  loosening,  nor  his 
hate  any  fear.  I  heard  afterwards  that  when  they 
dragged  the  two  out  next  day,  his  fingers  were  in 
the  other's  eye-sockets,  his  teeth  in  his  throat.  If 
ever  man  found  death  sweet,  it  was  he  ! 

As  we  turned  slowly  from  the  black  water, 
some  shuddering,  some  crossing  themselves,  the 
Lieutenant  looked  at  me. 

•  Curse  you  ! '  he  said  passionately.  '  I  believe 
that  you  are  glad.' 

'  He  deserved  his  fate,'  I  answered  coldly.  '  Why 
should  I  pretend  to  be  sorry  ?  It  was  now  or  in 
three  months.  And  for  the  other  poor  devil's  sake 
I  am  glad.' 


240  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

He  glared  at  me  for  a  moment  in  speechless 
anger. 

At  last,  '  I  should  like  to  have  you  tied  up ! '  he 
said  between  his  teeth. 

*  I  should  think  that  you  had  had  enough  of 
tying  up  for  one  day ! '  I  retorted.  '  But  there,'  I 
went  on  contemptuously,  *  it  comes  of  making 
officers  out  of  the  canaille.  Dogs  love  blood.  The 
teamster  must  lash  something  if  he  can  no  longer 
lash  his  horses.' 

We  were  back,  a  sombre  little  procession,  at  the 
wooden  bridge  when  I  said  this.     He  stopped. 

'  Very  well,'  he  replied,  nodding  viciously.  *  That 
decides  me.  Sergeant,  light  me  this  way  with  a 
lanthorn.  The  rest  of  you  to  the  village.  Now, 
Master  Spy,'  he  continued,  glancing  at  me  with 
gloomy  spite.  'Your  road  is  my  road.  I  think 
I  know  how  to  spoil  your  game.' 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  in  disdain,  and  to- 
gether, the  sergeant  leading  the  way  with  the 
light,  we  crossed  the  dim  meadow,  and  passed 
through  the  gate  where  Mademoiselle  had  kissed 
my  hand,  and  up  the  ghostly  walk  between  the 


CLON  241 

rose  bushes,  i  wondered  uneasily  what  the  Lieu- 
tenant would  be  at,  and  what  he  intended ;  but 
the  lanthorn-light  which  now  fell  on  the  ground 
at  our  feet,  and  now  showed  one  of  us  to  the 
other,  high-lit  in  a  frame  of  blackness,  discovered 
nothing  in  his  grizzled  face  but  settled  hostility. 
He  wheeled  at  the  end  of  the  walk  to  go  to  the 
main  door,  but  as  he  did  so  I  saw  the  flutter  of 
a  white  skirt  by  the  stone  seat  against  the 
house,  and  I  stepped  that  way. 

•  Mademoiselle  ? '  I  said  softly.     '  Is  it  you  ? ' 

'  Clon  ? '  she  muttered,  her  voice  quivering. 
'  What  of  him  ? ' 

'  He  is  past  pain,'  I  answered  gently.  '  He  is 
dead — yes,  dead,  Mademoiselle,  but  in  his  own 
way.     Take  comfort' 

She  stifled  a  sob ;  then  before  I  could  say  more, 
the  Lieutenant,  with  his  sergeant  and  light,  were 
at  my  elbow.  He  saluted  Mademoiselle  roughly. 
She  looked  at  him  with  shuddering  abhorrence. 

'Are  you  come  to  flog  me  too,  sir?'  she  said 
passionately.  'Is  it  not  enough  that  you  have 
murdered  my  servant  ?  * 


242  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'On  the  contrary,  it  was  he  who  killed  tny 
Captain,'  the  Lieutenant  answered,  in  another  tone 
than  I  had  expected.  '  If  your  servant  is  dead  so 
is  my  comrade.' 

'Captain  Larolle?'  she  murmured,  gazing  with 
startled  eyes,  not  at  him  but  at  me. 

I  nodded. 

'  How  ? '  she  asked. 

'Clon  flung  the  Captain  and  himself— into  the 
river  pool  above  the  bridge,'  I  said. 

She  uttered  a  low  cry  of  awe  and  stood  silent ; 
but  her  lips  moved  and  I  think  that  she  prayed 
for  Clon,  though  she  was  a  Huguenot.  Mean- 
while, I  had  a  fright  The  lanthorn,  swinging  in 
the  sergeant's  hand,  and  throwing  its  smoky  light 
now  on  the  stone  seat,  now  on  the  rough  wall 
above  it,  showed  me  something  else.  On  the  seat, 
doubtless  where  Mademoiselle's  hand  had  lain  as 
she  sat  in  the  dark,  listening  and  watching  and 
shivering,  stood  a  pitcher  of  food.  Beside  her,  in 
that  place,  it  was  damning  evidence,  and  I  trembled 
lest  the  Lieutenant's  eye  should  fall  upon  it,  lest 
the  sergeant  should  see  it;  and  then,  in  a  moment. 


CLON  243 

I  forgot  all  about  it.  The  Lieutenant  was  speaking, 
and  his  voice  was  doom.  My  throat  grew  dry  as  I 
listened ;  my  tongue  stuck  to  my  mouth.  I  tried 
to  look  at  Mademoiselle,  but  I  could  not 

'  It  is  true  that  the  Captain  is  gone,'  he  said 
stiffly,  'but  others  are  alive,  and  about  one  of 
them  a  word  with  you,  by  your  leave  Mademoiselle. 
I  have  listened  to  a  good  deal  of  talk  from  this 
fine  gentleman  friend  of  yours.  He  has  spent  the 
last  twenty-four  hours  saying  "  You  shall ! "  and 
"  You  shall  not ! "  He  came  from  you  and  took 
a  very  high  tone  because  we  laid  a  little  whip- 
lash about  that  dumb  devil  of  yours.  He  called 
us  brutes  and  beasts,  and  but  for  him  I  am  not 
sure  that  my  friend  would  not  now  be  alive.  But 
when  he  said  a  few  minutes  ago  that  he  was  glad 
— glad  of  it,  d—  him ! — then  I  fixed  it  in  my 
mind  that  I  would  be  even  with  him.  And  I  am 
going  to  be  1 ' 

'What  do  you  mean?'  Mademoiselle  asked, 
wearily  interrupting  him.  'If  you  think 
that  you  can  prejudice  me  against  this 
gentleman — ' 


244  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

*  That  is  precisely  what  I  am  going  to  do !  And 
a  little  more  than  that ! '  he  answered. 

'  You  will  be  only  wasting  your  breath !  *  she 
retorted, 

'Wait!  Wait,  Mademoiselle  —  until  you  have 
heard,'  he  said.  '  For  I  swear  to  you  that  if  ever 
a  black-hearted  scoundrel,  a  dastardly  sneaking 
spy  trod  the  earth,  it  is  this  fellow!  And  I  am 
going  to  expose  him.  Your  own  eyes  and  your 
own  ears  shall  persuade  you.  I  am  not  particular, 
but  I  would  not  eat,  I  would  not  drink,  I  would 
not  sit  down  with  him  !  I  would  rather  be  be- 
holden to  the  meanest  trooper  in  my  squadron 
than  to  him  !     Ay,  I  would,  so  help  me  Heaven  ! ' 

And  the  Lieutenant,  turning  squarely  on  his  heel 
spat  on  the  ground. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    ARREST 

T  T  had  come,  and  I  saw  no  way  of  escape.  The 
sergeant  was  between  us  and  I  could  not 
strike  him.  And  I  found  no  words.  A  score  of 
times  I  had  thought  with  shrinking  how  I  should 
reveal  my  secret  to  Mademoiselle — what  I  should 
say,  and  how  she  would  take  it ;  but  in  my  mind 
it  had  been  always  a  voluntary  act,  this  disclosure, 
it  had  been  always  I  who  unmasked  myself  and 
she  who  listened — alone;  and  in  this  voluntariness 
and  this  privacy  there  had  been  something  which 
took  from  the  shame  of  anticipation.  But  here 
— here  was  no  voluntary  act  on  my  part,  no  pri- 
vacy, nothing  but  shame.  And  I  stood  mute,  con- 
victed, speechless,  under  her  eyes — like  the  thing 
T  v/as. 

24$ 


246  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

Yet  if  anything  CQuld  have  braced  me  it  was 
Mademoiselle's  voice  when  she  answered  him. 

'Go  on,  Monsieur,'  she  said  calmly,  'you  will 
have  done  the  sooner.' 

'You  do  not  believe  me?'  he  replied.  'Then, 
I  say,  look  at  him !  Look  at  him !  If  ever 
shame — ' 

*  Monsieur,'  she  said  abruptly — she  did  not  look 
at  me,  '  I  am  ashamed  of  myself.' 

'  But  you  don't  hear  me,'  the  Lieutenant  rejoined 
hotly.  '  His  very  name  is  not  his  own  !  He  is 
not  Barthe  at  all.  He  is  Berault,  the  gambler,  the 
duellist,  the  bully  ;  whom  if  you — ' 

Again  she  interrupted  him. 

'  I  know  it,'  she  said  coldly.  '  I  know  it  all ;  and 
if  you  have  nothing  more  to  tell  me,  go.  Monsieur. 
Go  ! '  she  continued  in  a  tone  of  infinite  scorn.  *  Be 
satisfied,  that  you  have  earned  my  contempt  as 
well  as  my  abhorrence.' 

He  looked  for  a  moment  taken  aback.     Then, — 

*  Ay,  but  I  have  more,'  he  cried,  his  voice  stub- 
bornly triumphant.  '  I  forgot  that  you  would 
think  little  ol  that.     I   forgot  that  a  swordsman 


THE  ARREST  247 

has  always  the  ladies'  hearts — but  I  have  more. 
Do  you  know,  too,  that  he  is  in  the  Cardinal's 
pay  ?  Do  you  know  that  he  is  here  on  the  same 
errand  which  brings  as  here  —  to  arrest  M.  de 
Cocheforet?  Do  you  know  that  while  we  go 
about  the  business  openly  and  in  soldier  fashion, 
it  is  his  part  to  worm  himself  into  your  confidence, 
to  sneak  into  Madame's  intimacy,  to  listen  at  your 
door,  to  follow  your  footsteps,  to  hang  on  your 
lips,  to  track  you  —  track  you  until  you  betray 
yourselves  and  the  man  ?  Do  you  know  this,  and 
that  all  his  sympathy  is  a  lie,  Mademoiselle  ?  His 
help,  so  much  bait  to  catch  the  secret  ?  His  aim, 
blood-money  —  blood-money  ?  Why,  morbleu  ! ' 
the  Lieutenant  continued,  pointing  his  finger  at  me, 
and  so  carried  away  by  passion,  so  lifted  out  of 
himself  by  wrath  and  indignation,  that  I  shrank 
before  him — '  you  talk,  lady,  of  contempt  and 
abhorrence  in  the  same  breath  with  me,  but  what 
have  you  for  him — what  have  you  for  him — the 
spy,  the  informer,  the  hired  traitor?  And  if  you 
doubt  me,  if  you  want  evidence,  look  at  him. 
Only  look  at  him,  I  say.' 


248  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

And  he  might  say  it ;  for  I  stood  silent  still, 
cowering  and  despairing,  white  with  rage  and 
hate.  But  Mademoiselle  did  not  look.  She 
gazed  straight  at  the  Lieutenant 

'  Have  you  done  ? '  she  said. 

'  Done  ? '  he  stammered ;  her  words,  her  air, 
bringing  him  to  earth  again.  'Done?  Yes,  if 
you  believe  me.' 

'  I  do  not,'  she  answered  proudly.  *  If  that  be 
all,  be  satisfied,  Monsieur.     I  do  not  believe  you.' 

'  Then  tell  me  this,'  he  retorted,  after  a  moment 
of  stunned  surprise.  '  Answer  me  this  !  Why,  if 
he  was  not  on  our  side,  do  you  think  that  we  let 
him  remain  here?  Why  did  we  suffer  him  to 
stay  in  a  suspected  house,  bullying  us,  annoying  us, 
thwarting  us,  taking  your  part  from  hour  to  hour  ? ' 

'  He  has  a  sword,  Monsieur,'  she  answered  with 
fine  contempt. 

*  Milk  diahles  r  he  cried,  snapping  his  fingers 
in  a  rage.  '  That  for  his  sword  !  It  was  because 
he  held  the  Cardinal's  commission,  I  tell  you,  be- 
cause he  had  equal  authority  with  us.  Because 
we  had  no  choice.' 


THE  ARREST  249 

'  And  that  being  so,  Monsieur,  why  are  you  now 
betraying  him  ? '  she  asked. 

He  swore  at  that,  feeling  the  stroke  go  home. 

'You  must  be  mad!'  he  said,  glaring  at  her. 
'Cannot  you  see  that  the  man  is  what  I  tell 
you  ?  Look  at  him !  Look  at  him,  I  say ! 
Listen  to  him !  Has  he  a  word  to  say  for  him- 
self?' 

Still  she  did  not  look. 

*  It  is  late,'  she  replied  coldly.  '  And  I  am  not 
very  well.  If  you  have  done,  quite  done — perhaps, 
you  will  leave  me,  Monsieur.' 

' Mon  Dieu!'  he  exclaimed,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  and  grinding  his  teeth  in  impotent 
rage.  '  You  are  mad  !  I  have  told  you  the  truth, 
and  you  will  not  believe  it.  Well — on  your  head 
be  it  then,  Mademoiselle.  I  have  no  more  to  say ! 
You  will  see.' 

And  with  that,  without  more,  fairly  conquered 
by  her  staunchness,  he  saluted  her,  gave  the  word 
to  the  sergeant,  turned  and  went  down  the  path. 
The  sergeant  went  after  him,  the  lanthorn  sway- 
ing in  his   hand.     And  we  two  were  left  alone. 


250  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

The  frogs  were  croaking  in  the  pool ;  a  bat  flew 
round  in  circles ;  the  house,  the  garden,  all  lay 
quiet  under  the  darkness,  as  on  the  night  when 
I  first  came  to  it 

And  would  to  Heaven  I  had  never  come — that 
was  the  cry  in  my  heart.  Would  to  Heaven  I  had 
never  seen  this  woman,  whose  nobleness  and  faith 
were  a  continual  shame  to  me ;  a  reproach  brand- 
ing me  every  hour  I  stood  in  her  presence  with 
all  vile  and  hateful  names.  The  man  just  gone, 
coarse,  low-bred,  brutal  soldier  as  he  was,  man- 
flogger  and  drilling-block,  had  yet  found  heart  to 
feel  my  baseness,  and  words  in  which  to  denounce 
it.  What,  then,  would  she  say,  when  the  truth 
came  home  to  her  ?  What  shape  should  I  take  in 
her  eyes  then?  How  should  I  be  remembered 
through  all  the  years  then  ? 

Then?  But  now?  What  was  she  thinking 
now,  at  this  moment  as  she  stood  silent  and 
absorbed  near  the  stone  seat,  a  shadowy  figure 
with  face  turned  from  me?  Was  she  recalling 
the  man's  words,  fitting  them  to  the  facts  and 
the    past,    adding    hits    and    that   circumstance? 


THE  ARREST  251 

Was  she,  though  she  had  rebuffed  him  in  the 
body,  collating,  now  he  was  gone,  all  that  he  had 
said,  and  out  of  these  scraps  piecing  together 
the  damning  truth  ?  Was  she,  for  all  that  she  had 
said,  beginning  to  see  me  as  I  was  ?  The  thought 
tortured  me.  I  could  brook  uncertainty  no  longer. 
I  went  nearer  to  her  and  touched  her  sleeve. 

'  Mademoiselle,'  I  said  in  a  voice  which  sounded 
hoarse  and  unnatural  even  in  my  own  ears,  '  do 
you  believe  this  of  me  ? ' 

She  started  violently,  and  turned. 

*  Pardon,  Monsieur  ! '  she  murmured,  passing 
her  hand  over  her  brow ;  '  I  had  forgotten  that 
you  were  here.     Do   I  believe — what?' 

'What  that  man  said  of  me,'  I  muttered. 

•  That ! '  she  exclaimed.  And  then  she  stood  a 
moment  gazing  at  me  in  a  strange  fashion.  ♦  Do 
I  believe  that,  Monsieur  ?  But  come,  come ! ' 
she  continued  impetuously.  '  Come,  and  I  will 
show  you   if  I  believe  it.     But  not  here.' 

She  turned  as  she  spoke,  and  led  the  way  on 
the  instant  into  the  house  through  the  parlour 
door,  which  stood  half  open.     The  room  inside  was 


252  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

pitch  dark,  but  she  took  me  fearlessly  by  the 
hand  and  led  me  quickly  through  it,  and  along 
the  passage,  until  we  came  to  the  cheerful  lighted 
hall,  where  a  great  fire  burned  on  the  hearth. 
All  traces  of  the  soldiers'  occupation  had  been 
swept  away.     But  the  room  was  empty. 

She  led  me  to  the  fire,  and  there  in  the  full 
light,  no  longer  a  shadowy  creature,  but  red- 
lipped,  brilliant,  throbbing  with  life  and  beauty, 
she  stood  opposite  me — her  eyes  shining,  her 
colour  high,  her  breast  heaving. 

'  Do  I  believe  it  ? '  she  said  in  a  thrilling  voice. 
'  I  will  tell  you.  M.  de  Cocheforet's  hiding-place 
is  in  the  hut  behind  the  fern-stack,  two  furlongs 
beyond  the  village  on  the  road  to  Auch.  You 
know  now  what  no  one  else  knows,  he  and  I 
and  Madame  excepted.  You  hold  in  your  hands 
his  life  and  my  honour ;  and  you  know  also,  M. 
dc  Berault,  whether  I  believe  that  tale.' 

'  My  God  ! '  I  cried.  And  I  stood  looking  at 
her  until  something  of  the  horror  in  my  eyes 
crept  into  hers,  and  she  shuddered  and  stepped 
back  from  me. 


'My  God  !"  I  cried. 


THE  ARREST  253 

'  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ? '  she  whispered, 
clasping  her  hands.  And  with  all  the  colour 
gone  suddenly  from  her  cheeks  she  peered 
trembling  into  the  corners  and  towards  the  door. 
'  There  is  no  one  here.* 

I  forced  myself  to  speak,  though  I  was  trembl- 
ing all  over  like  a  man  in  an  ague.  '  No,  Made- 
moiselle, there  is  no  one  here,'  I  muttered. 
'There  is  no  one  here.'  And  then  I  let  my 
head  fall  on  my  breast,  and  I  stood  before  her, 
the  statue  of  despair.  Had  she  felt  a  grain  of 
suspicion,  a  grain  of  doubt,  my  bearing  must 
have  opened  her  eyes ;  but  her  mind  was  cast  in 
so  noble  a  mould  that,  having  once  thought  ill  of 
me  and  been  converted,  she  could  feel  no  doubt 
again.  She  must  trust  all  in  all.  A  little  recovered 
from  her  fright,  she  stood  looking  at  me  in  great 
wonder ;  and  at  last  she  had  a  thought — 

'  You  are  not   well  ? '   she   said   suddenly.     '  It 

is  your  old  wound,  Monsieur.     Now  I  have  it?' 

'Yes,  Mademoiselle,'  I  muttered  faintly,  'it  is.' 

'  I  will  call  Clon  ! '  she  cried  impetuously.     And 

then,    with    a    sob :     '  Ah !     poor    Clon !     He    is 


254  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

gone.     But  there  is  still  Louis.     I   will  call  him 
and  he  will  get  you  something.' 

She  was  gone  from  the  room  before  I  could 
stop  her,  and  I  stood  leaning  against  the  table, 
possessor  at  last  of  the  secret  which  I  had  come 
so  far  to  win  ;  able  in  a  moment  to  open  the 
door  and  go  out  into  the  night,  and  make  use  of 
it — and  yet  the  most  unhappy  of  men.  The  sweat 
stood  on  my  brow ;  my  eyes  wandered  round 
the  room  ;  I  turned  towards  the  door,  with  some 
mad  thought  of  flight — of  flight  from  her,  from 
the  house,  from  everything;  and  I  had  actually 
taken  a  step  towards  this,  when  on  the  door,  the 
outer  door,  there  came  a  sudden  hurried  knock- 
ing which  jarred  uvcry  nerve  in  my  body.  I 
started,  and  stopped.  I  stood  a  moment  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  gazing  at  the  door,  as  at  a 
ghost.  Then,  glad  of  action,  glad  of  anything 
that  might  relieve  the  tension  of  my  feelings,  I 
strode  to  it  and  pulled  it  sharply  open. 

On  the  threshold,  his  flushed  face  lit  up  by  the 
light  behind  me,  stood  one  of  the  knaves  whom  I 
had   brought  with   me   to    Auch.      He   had  been 


THE  ARREST  255 

running,  and  panted  heavily ;  but  he  had  kept  his 
wits,  and  the  instant  I  appeared  he  grasped  my 
sleeve. 

'  Ah !  Monsieur,  the  very  man ! '  he  cried. 
'  Quick  !  come  this  instant,  lose  not  a  moment, 
and  you  may  yet  be  first.  They  have  the  secret ! 
The  soldiers  have  found  Monsieur ! ' 

'  Found  him  ? '  I  echoed.     '  M.  de  Cocheforet  ? ' 

'  No ;  but  they  know  the  place  where  he  lies. 
It  was  found  by  accident.  The  Lieutenant  was 
gathering  his  men  when  I  came  away.  If  we  are 
quick,  we  may  yet  be  first' 

'  But  the  place  ? '  1  said. 

'  I  could  not  hear/  he  answered  bluntly.  '  We 
must  hang  on  their  skirts,  and  at  the  last  moment 
strike  in.     It  is  the  only  way,  Monsieur.' 

The  pair  of  pistols  I  had  taken  from  the  shock- 
headed  man  lay  on  a  chest  by  the  door.  Without 
waiting  for  more  I  snatched  them  up  and  my  hat, 
and  joined  him,  and  in  a  moment  we  were  running 
down  the  garden.  I  looked  back  once  before  we 
passed  the  gate,  and  I  saw  the  light  streaming  out 
through  the  door  which  I  had  left  open  ;   and  I 


2S6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

fancied  that  for  an  instant  a  figure  darkened  the 
gap.  But  the  fancy  only  strengthened  the  one 
single  purpose,  the  iron  resolve,  which  had  taken 
possession  of  me  and  all  my  thoughts.  I  must 
be  first ;  I  must  anticipate  the  Lieutenant ;  I  must 
make  the  arrest  myself.  I  must  be  first  And  I 
ran  on  only  the  faster. 

We  were  across  the  meadow  and  in  the  wood 
in  a  moment.  There,  instead  of  keeping  along 
the  common  path,  I  boldly  singled  out — my  senses 
seemed  to  be  preternaturally  keen  —  the  smaller 
trail  by  which  Clon  had  brought  us.  Along  this 
I  ran  unfalteringly,  avoiding  logs  and  pitfalls  as  by 
instinct,  and  following  all  its  turns  and  twists,  un- 
til we  came  to  the  back  of  the  inn,  and  could  hear 
the  murmur  of  subdued  voices  in  the  village  street, 
the  sharp  low  word  of  command,  and  the  clink 
of  weapons ;  and  could  see  over  and  between  the 
houses  the  dull  glare  of  lanthorns  and  torches. 

I  grasped  my  man's  arm,  and  crouched  down 
listening.  When  I  had  heard  enough,  '  Where  is 
your  mate  ? '  I  said  in  his  ear. 

'  With  them,'  he  muttered. 


THE  ARREST  257 

'  Then  come,'  I  whispered  rising.  '  I  have  seen 
what  I  want.     Let  us  go.' 

But  he  caught  me  by  the  arm  and  detained  me. 

'You  don't  know  the  way/  he  said.  'Steady 
steady,  Monsieur.  You  go  too  fast.  They  are  jus* 
moving.  Let  us  join  them,  and  strike  in  when  th< 
time  comes.     We  must  let  them  guide  us.' 

'  Fool ! '  I  said,  shaking  off  his  hand.  '  I  tell 
you,  I  know  where  he  is  !  ^  know  where  they  are 
going.  Come,  and  we  will  pluck  the  fruit  while 
they  are  on  the  road  to  it.' 

His  only  answer  was  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 
At  that  moment  the  lights  began  to  move.  The 
Lieutenant  was  starting.  The  moon  was  not  yet 
up,  the  sky  was  grey  and  cloudy;  to  advance 
where  we  were  was  to  step  into  a  wall  of  blackness. 
But  we  had  lost  too  much  time  already,  and  I  did 
not  hesitate.  Bidding  my  companion  follow  me 
and  use  his  legs,  I  sprang  through  a  low  fence  which 
rose  before  us ;  then  stumbling  blindly  over  some 
broken  ground  in  the  rear  of  the  houses,  I  came 
with  a  fall  or  two  to  a  little  watercourse  with  steep 
sides.     Through  this  I  plunged  recklessly  and  up 


258  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

the  farther  side,  and,  breathless  and  panting,  gained 
the  road,  beyond  the  village,  and  fifty  yards  in 
advance  of  the  Lieutenant's  troop. 

They  had  only  two  lanthorns  burning,  and  we 
were  beyond  the  circle  of  light  cast  by  these  ;  while 
the  steady  tramp  of  so  many  footsteps  covered  the 
noise  we  made.  We  were  in  no  danger  of  being 
noticed,  and  in  a  twinkling  we  turned  our  backs, 
and  as  fast  as  we  could  we  ran  down  the  road. 
Fortunately,  they  were  thinking  more  of  secrecy 
than  speed,  and  in  a  minute  we  had  doubled  the 
distance  between  them  and  us.  In  two  minutes 
their  lights  were  mere  sparks  shining  in  the  gloom 
behind  us.  We  lost  even  the  tramp  of  their  feet 
Then  I  began  to  look  out  and  go  more  slowly, 
peering  into  the  shadows  on  either  side  for  the 
fernstack. 

On  one  hand  the  hill  fose  steeply,  on  the  other 
it  fell  away  to  the  stream.  On  neither  side  was 
close  wood,  or  my  difficulties  had  been  immensely 
increased  ;  but  scattered  oak  trees  stood  here  and 
there  among  the  bracken.  This  helped  me,  and 
presently,  on  the  upper  side,  I  came  upon  the  dense 


THE  ARREST  259 

substance  of  the  stack  looming  black  against  the 
lighter  hill. 

My  heart  beat  fast,  but  it  was  no  time  for 
thought  Bidding  the  man  in  a  whisper  to  follow 
me  and  be  ready  to  back  me  up,  I  climbed  the 
bank  softly,  and,  with  a  pistol  in  my  hand,  felt  my 
way  to  the  rear  of  the  stack,  thinking  to  find  a  hut 
there,  set  against  the  fern,  and  M.  Cocheforet  in  it. 
But  I  found  no  hut  There  was  none  ;  and,  more- 
over, it  was  so  dark  now  we  were  off  the  road,  that 
it  came  upon  me  suddenly,  as  I  stood  between  the 
hill  and  the  stack,  that  I  had  undertaken  a  very 
difficult  thing.  The  hut  behind  the  fern-stack. 
But  how  far  behind  ?  how  far  from  it  ?  The  dark 
slope  stretched  above  us,  infinite,  immeasurable, 
shrouded  in  night  To  begin  to  climb  it  in  search 
of  a  tiny  hut,  possibly  well  hidden  and  hard  to  find 
in  daylight,  seemed  an  endeavour  as  hopeless  as 
to  meet  with  the  needle  in  the  hay !  And  now 
while  I  stood,  chilled  and  doubting,  almost  de- 
spairing, the  steps  of  the  troop  in  the  road  began 
to  grow  audible,  began  to  come  nearer. 

'  Well,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine  ? '  the  man  beside 


26o  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

me  muttered — in  wonder  why  I  stood.     *  Which 
way  ?  or  they  will  be  before  us  yet.' 

I  tried  to  think,  to  reason  it  out ;  to  considei 
where  the  hut  should  be  ;  while  the  wind  sighed 
through  the  oaks,  and  here  and  there  I  could  hear 
an  acorn  fall.  But  the  thing  pressed  too  close  on 
me  ;  my  thoughts  would  not  be  hurried,  and  at 
last  I  said  at  a  venture, — 

'  Up  the  hill.  Straight  up  from  the  stack.' 
He  did  not  demur,  and  we  plunged  at  the  ascent, 
knee-deep  in  bracken  and  furze,  sweating  at  every 
pore  with  our  exertions,  and  hearing  the  troop 
come  every  moment  nearer  on  the  road  below. 
Doubtless  they  knew  exactly  whither  to  go ! 
Forced  to  stop  and  take  breath  when  we  had 
scrambled  up  fifty  yards  or  so,  I  saw  their  lanthorns 
shining  like  moving  glow-worms ;  I  could  even 
hear  the  clink  of  steel.  For  all  I  could  tell,  the  hut 
might  be  down  there,  and  we  be  moving  from  it 
But  it  was  too  late  to  go  back  now — they  were 
close  to  the  fern-stack  ;  and  in  despair  I  turned  to 
the  hill  again.  A  dozen  steps  and  I  stumbled.  I 
rose    and    plunged    on    again ;    again    stumbled. 


THE  ARREST  261 

Then  I  found  that  I  was  treading  level  earth. 
And — was  it  water  I  saw  before  me,  below  me  ?  or 
some  mirage  of  the  sky  ? 

Neither ;  and  I  gripped  my  fellow's  arm,  as  he 
came  abreast  of  me,  and  stopped  him  sharply.  Be- 
low us  in  the  middle  of  a  steep  hollow,  a  pit  in  the 
hill-side,  a  light  shone  out  through  some  aperture 
and  quivered  on  the  mist,  like  the  pale  lamp  of  a 
moorland  hobgoblin.  It  made  itself  visible,  dis- 
playing nothing  else  ;  a  wisp  of  light  in  the  bottom 
of  a  black  bowl.  Yet  my  spirits  rose  with  a  great 
bound  at  sight  of  it;  for  I  knew  that  I  had  stum- 
bled on  the  place  I  sought. 

In  the  common  run  of  things  I  should  have 
weighed  my  next  step  carefully,  and  gone  about 
it  slowly.  But  here  was  no  place  for  thought, 
nor  room  for  delay ;  and  I  slid  down  the  side 
of  the  hollow  on  the  instant,  and  the  moment 
my  feet  touched  the  bottom  sprang  to  the  door 
of  the  little  hut,  whence  the  light  issued.  A 
stone  turned  under  my  feet  in  my  rush,  and  I  fell 
on  my  knees  on  the  threshold  ;  but  the  fall  only 
brought  my  face  to  a  level  with  the  face  of  the  man 


262  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

who  lay  inside  on  a  bed  of  fern.  He  had  been 
reading.  Startled  by  the  sound  I  made,  he  dropped 
his  book,  and  in  a  flash  stretched  out  his  hand  for 
a  weapon.  But  the  muzzle  of  my  pistol  covered 
him,  he  was  not  in  a  posture  from  which  he  could 
spring,  and  at  a  sharp  word  from  me  he  dropped 
his  hand ;  the  tigerish  glare  which  flickered  for  an 
instant  in  his  eyes  gave  place  to  a  languid  smile, 
and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

*  Eh  bien  ! '  he  said  with  marvellous  composure. 
'  Taken  at  last !     Well,  I  was  tired  of  it' 

'You  are  my  prisoner,  M.  de  Cocheforet,'  I 
answered.  *  Move  a  hand  and  I  kill  you.  But 
you  have  still  a  choice.' 

*  Truly  ? '  he  said,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

'  Yes.  My  orders  are  to  take  you  to  Paris  alive 
or  dead.  Give  me  your  parole  that  you  will  make 
no  attempt  to  escape,  and  you  shall  go  thither  at 
your  ease  and  as  a  gentleman.  Refuse,  and  I 
shall  disarm  and  bind  you,  and  you  go  as  a 
prisoner.' 

'  What  force  have  you  ? '  he  asked  curtly.  lie 
still  lay  on  his  elbow,  his  cloak  covering  him,  the 


THE  ARREST  263 

little  Marot  in  which  he  had  been  reading  close  to 
his  hand.  But  his  quick  black  eyes,  which  looked 
the  keener  for  the  pallor  and  thinness  of  his  face, 
roved  ceaselessly  over  me,  probed  the  darkness 
behind  me,  took  note  of  everything. 

'Enough  to  compel  you,  Monsieur,'  I  replied 
sternly ;  '  but  that  is  not  all.  There  are  thirty 
dragoons  coming  up  the  hill  to  secure  you,  and 
they  will  make  you  no  such  offer.  Surrender  to 
me  before  they  come,  and  give  me  your  parole, 
and  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  your  comfort.  Delay, 
and  you  must  fall  into  their  hands.  There  can 
be  no  escape.' 

*  You  will  take  my  word  ? '  he  said  slowly, 

*  Give  it,  and  you  may  keep  your  pistols,  M.  de 
Cocheforet' 

'  Tell  me  at  least  that  you  are  not  alone.' 

*  I  am  not  alone.' 

'  Then  I  give  it,'  he  said  with  a  sigh.  '  And  for 
Heaven's  sake  get  me  something  to  eat  and  a  bed. 
I  am  tired  of  this  pig-sty.  3Ion  Dieu  !  it  is  a  fort- 
night since  I  slept  between  sheets.' 

'  You  shall  sleep  to-night  in  your  own  house,  if 


264  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

you  please,'  I  answered  hurriedly.  '  But  here  they 
come.  Be  good  enough  to  stay  where  you  are  for 
a  moment,  and  I  will  meet  them.' 

I  stepped  out  into  the  darkness,  just  as  the 
Lieutenant,  after  posting  his  men  round  the  hollow, 
slid  down  with  a  couple  of  sergeants  to  make  the 
arrest  The  place  round  the  open  door  was  pitch- 
dark.  He  had  not  espied  my  man,  who  had 
lodged  himself  in  the  deepest  shadow  of  the  hut, 
and  when  he  saw  me  come  out  across  the  light 
he  took  me  for  Cochefordt.  In  a  twinkling  he 
thrust  a  pistol  into  my  face,  and  cried  triumph- 
antly,— '  You  are  my  prisoner ! '  while  one  of  the 
sergeants  raised  a  lanthorn  and  threw  its  light 
into  my  eyes. 

'  What  folly  is  this  ? '  I  said  savagely. 

The  Lieutenant's  jaw  fell,  and  he  stood  for  a 
moment  paralysed  with  astonishment.  Less  than 
an  hour  before  he  had  left  me  at  the  Chateau. 
Thence  he  had  come  hither  with  the  briefest 
delay ;  yet  he  found  me  here  before  him.  He 
swore  fearfully,  his  face  black,  his  moustachios 
stiff  with  rage. 


THE  ARREST  265 

•  What  is  this  ?  What  is  it  ? '  he  cried.  '  Where 
is  the  man  ? ' 

'  What  man  ? '  I  said, 

'  This  Cocheforet ! '  he  roared,  carried  away  by 
his  passion.  '  Don't  lie  to  me !  He  is  here,  and 
I  will  have  him  ! ' 

'You  are  too  late,'  I  said,  watching  him  heed 
fully.    M.  de  Cocheforet  is  here,  but  he  has  already 
surrendered  to  me,  and  is  my  prisoner.' 

'  Your  prisoner  ? ' 

*  Certainly ! '  I  answered,  facing  the  man  with 
all  the  harshness  I  could  muster.  '  I  have  ar- 
rested him  by  virtue  of  the  Cardinal's  commission 
granted  to  me.  And  by  virtue  of  the  same  I  shall 
keep  him.' 

*  You  will  keep  him  ? ' 
'  I  shall ! ' 

He  stared  at  me  for  a  moment,  utterly  aghast ; 
the  picture  of  defeat.  Then  on  a  sudden  I  saw 
his  face  lighten  with  a  new  idea. 

•  It  is  a  d — d  ruse ! '  he  shouted,  brandishing 
his  pistol  like  a  madman.  'It  is  a  cheat  and  a 
fraud !     By  God !    you  have  no  commission  !      I 


266  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

see  through  it !  I  see  through  it  all !  You  have 
come  here,  and  you  have  hocussed  us !  You  are 
of  their  side,  and  this  is  your  last  shift  to  save 
him!' 

'  What  folly  is  this  ? '  I  said  contemptuously. 

*  No  folly  at  all,'  he  answered,  perfect  conviction 
in  his  tone.  *  You  have  played  upon  us.  You 
have  fooled  us.  But  I  see  through  it  now.  An 
hour  ago  I  exposed  you  to  that  fine  Madame  at 
the  house  there,  and  I  thought  it  a  marvel  that 
she  did  not  believe  me.  I  thought  it  a  marvel 
that  she  did  not  see  through  you,  when  you  stood 
there  before  her,  confounded,  tongue-tied,  a  rogue 
convicted.  But  I  understand  now.  She  knew 
you.  She  was  in  the  plot,  and  you  were  in  the 
plot,  and  I,  who  thought  that  I  was  opening  her 
eyes,  was  the  only  one  fooled.  But  it  is  my  turn 
now.  You  have  played  a  bold  part  and  a  clever 
one,'  he  continued,  a  sinister  light  in  his  little 
eyes,  'and  I  congratulate  you.  But  it  is  at  an 
end  now.  Monsieur.  Vou  took  us  in  finely  with 
your  talk  of  Monseigneur,  and  his  commission 
and   your   commission,  and  the  rest     But   I   am 


THE  ARREST  267 

not  to  be  blinded  any  longer— or  bullied.  You 
have  arrested  him,  have  you  ?  Yo7i  have  arrested 
him.  Well,  by  G — ,  I  shall  arrest  him,  and  I 
shall  arrest  you  too.' 

*  You  are  mad ! '  I  said,  staggered  as  much  by 
this  new  view  of  the  matter  as  by  his  perfect 
certainty.     '  Mad,  Lieutenant' 

*  I  was,'  he  snarled.  '  But  I  am  sane  now. 
I  was  mad  when  you  imposed  upon  us, 
when  you  persuaded  me  to  think  that  you  were 
fooling  the  women  to  get  the  secret  out  of  them, 
while  all  the  time  j'ou  were  sheltering  them, 
protecting  them,  aiding  them,  and  hiding  him — 
then  I  was  mad.  But  not  now.  However,  I  ask 
your  pardon.  I  thought  you  the  cleverest  sneak 
and  the  dirtiest  hound  Heaven  ever  made.  I 
find  you  were  cleverer  than  I  thought,  and  an 
honest  traitor.     Your  pardon.' 

One  of  the  men,  who  stood  about  the  rim 
of  the  bowl  above  us,  laughed.  I  looked  at  the 
Lieutenant  and  could  willingly  have  killed  him. 

'  Mon  Dieu  ! '  I  said — and  I  was  so  furious  in 
my  turn  that  I  could   scarcely  speak.     '  Do  you 


268  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

say  that  I  am  an  impostor— that  I  do  not  hold 
the  Cardinal's  commission?' 

•  I  do  say  that,'  he  answered  coolly. 

'  And  that  I  belong  to  the  rebel  party  ?  ' 

'  I  do/  he  replied  in  the  same  tone.  *  In  fact,' 
with  a  grin,  '  I  say  that  you  are  an  honest  man  on 
the  wrong  side,  M.  de  Berault  And  you  say 
that  you  are  a  scoundrel  on  the  right.  The 
advantage,  however,  is  with  me,  and  I  shall  back 
my  opinion  by  arresting  you.' 

A  ripple  of  coarse  laughter  ran  round  the 
hollow.  The  sergeant  who  held  the  lanthorn 
grinned,  and  a  trooper  at  a  distance  called  out 
of  the  darkness  'A  don  chat  bon  rat!*  This 
brought  a  fresh  burst  of  laughter,  while  I  stood 
speechless,  confounded  by  the  stubbornness, 
the  crassness,  the  insolence  of  the  man.  •  You 
fool ! '  I  cried  at  last,  '  you  fool  1'  And  then  M. 
de  Cocheforet,  who  had  come  out  of  the  hut 
and  taken  his  stand  at  my  elbow,  interrupted 
me. 

'  Pardon  me  one  moment, '  he  said,  airily, 
looking    at    the    Lieutenant   with    raised  eyebrows 


THE  ARREST  269 

and  pointing  to  me  with  his  thumb,  'but  I  am 
puzzled  between  you.  This  gentleman's  name? 
Is  it  de  Berault  or  de  Barthe  ? ' 

'  I  am  M.  de  Berault/  I  said,  brusquely,  an- 
swering for  myself. 

'  Of  Paris  ? ' 

'  Yes,  Monsieur,  of  Paris.' 

'  You  are  not,  then,  the  gentleman  who  has 
been  honouring  my  poor  house  with  his  pre- 
sence ? ' 

*  Oh,  yes  ! '  the  Lieutenant  struck  in,  grinning 
'  He  is  that  gentleman,  too.' 

'But  I  thought — I  understood  that  that  was 
M.  de  Barthe  ! ' 

*  I  am  M.  de  Barthe,  also,'  I  retorted  impatiently. 
'What  of  that.  Monsieur?  It  was  my  mother's 
name.     I  took  it  when  I  came  down  here.' 

'To — er — to  arrest  me,  may  I  ask?' 
'  Yes,'  I  said,  doggedly  ;  '  to  arrest  you.      What 
of  that  ? ' 

'  Nothing,'  he  replied  slowly  and  with  a  steady 
look  at  me — a  look  I  could  not  meet.  'Except 
that,   had    I    known    this    before,    M.    de    Berault 


270  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  should  have  thought  longer  before  I  surrendered 
to  you.' 

The  Lieutenant  laughed,  and  I  felt  my  cheek 
burn ;  but  I  affected  to  see  nothing,  and  turned 
to  him  again.  *  Nov/,  Monsieur,*  I  said,  *  are 
you  satisfied  ? ' 

'  No,'  he  answered,  '  I  am  not !  You  two 
may  have  rehearsed  this  pretty  scene  a  dozen 
times.  The  word,  it  seems  to  me,  is — Quick 
march,  back  to  quarters.' 

At  length  I  found  myself  driven  to  play  my  last 
card  ;  much  against  my  will. 

'  Not  so,'  I  said.     *  I  have  my  commission,' 

'Produce  it!'  he  replied  incredulously. 

'  Do  you  think  that  I  carry  it  with  me  ? '  I 
cried  in  scorn.  '  Do  you  think  that  when  I 
came  here,  alone,  and  not  with  fifty  dragoons 
at  my  back,  I  carried  the  Cardinal's  seal  in 
my  pocket  for  the  first  lackey  to  find.  But 
you  shall  have  it  Where  is  that  knave  of 
mine  ?' 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  my  mouth 
before    a    ready   hand    thrust    a    paper   into    my 


THE  ARREST  271 

fingers.  I  opened  it  slowly,  glanced  at  it,  and 
amid  a  pause  of  surprise  gave  it  to  the  Lieute- 
nant. He  looked  for  a  moment  confounded. 
Then,  with  a  last  instinct  of  suspicion,  he  bade 
the  sergeant  hold  up  the  lanthorn  ;  and  by  its 
light  he  proceeded  to  spell  through  the  document. 
'  Umph  !'  he  ejaculated  with  an  ugly  look  when 
he  had  come  to  the  end,  '  I  see.'  And  he  read  it 
aloud  : — 

'  Bj'  these  presents,  I  command  and  em- 
power Gilles  de  Berault^  sieur  de  Berault, 
to  seek  for,  hold,  arrest,  and  deliver  to 
the  Governor  of  the  Bastille  the  body  of 
Henri  de  CocheforH,  and  to  do  all  such 
acts  and  things  as  shall  he  necessary  to 
effect  such  arrest  and  delivery,  for  which 
these  shall  be  his  warrant. 

{Signed)  The  Cardinal  de  Richelieu.' 

When  he  had  done — he  read  the  signature 
with  a  peculiar  intonation — someone  ,said  softly, 
•  Vive  le  Roil'  and  there  was  a  moment's 
silence.      The  sergeant  lowered  his  lanthorn.     'Is 


272  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

it   enough?'    I    said    hoarsely,   glaring    from   face 
to  face. 

The  Lieutenant  bowed  stiffly. 
•  For  me  ? '  he  said.  '  Quite,  Monsieur.  I  beg 
your  pardon  again,  I  find  that  my  first  impres- 
sions were  the  correct  ones.  Sergeant !  give  the 
gentleman  his  papers  ! '  and,  turning  his  shoulder 
rudely,  he  tossed  the  commission  to  the  ser- 
geant, who  gave  it  to  me,  grinning. 

I  knew  that  the  clown  would  not  fight,  and 
he  had  his  men  round  him  ;  and  I  had  no 
choice  but  to  swallow  the  insult.  I  put  the 
paper  in  my  breast,  with  as  much  indifference 
as  I  could  assume ;  and  as  I  did  so,  he  gave 
a  sharp  order.  The  troopers  began  to  form 
on  the  edge  above ;  the  men  who  had  de- 
scended to  climb  the  bank  again. 

As  the  group  behind  him  began  to  open 
and  melt  away,  I  caught  sight  of  a  white  robe 
in  the  middle  of  it.  The  next  moment,  appear- 
ing with  a  suddenness  which  was  like  a  blow 
on  the  cheek  to  me,  Mademoiselle  de  Coche- 
for&t   glided    forward    towards    luc.       She    h:id   a 


THE  AUREST  273 

hood  on  her  head,  drawn  low  ;  and  for  a  mo- 
ment I  could  not  see  her  face.  I  forgot  her 
brother's  presence  at  my  elbow,  I  forgot  other 
things,  and,  from  habit  and  impulse  rather  than 
calculation,  I  took  a  step  forward  to  meet  her; 
though  my  tongue  cleaved  to  the  roof  of  my 
mouth,  and  I  was  dumb  and  trembling. 

But  she  recoiled  —  with  such  a  look  of 
white  hate,  of  staring,  frozen-eyed  abhorrence, 
that  I  stepped  back  as  if  she  had  indeed  struck 
me.  It  did  not  need  the  words  which  accom- 
panied the  look — the  'Do  not  touch  me!'  which 
she  hissed  at  me  as  she  drew  her  skirts  to- 
gether— to  drive  me  to  the  farther  edge  of  the 
hollow  ;  where  I  stood  with  clenched  teeth,  and 
nails  driven  into  the  flesh,  while  she  hung,  sob- 
bing tearless  sobs,  on  her  brother's  neck. 


CHAPTER    Xil 

THE     ROAD    TO     PARIS 

T  REMEMBER  hearing  Marshal  Bassompierre, 
who,  of  all  the  men  within  my  knowledge, 
had  the  widest  experience,  say  that  not  dangers 
but  discomforts  prove  a  man  and  show  what  he 
is ;  and  that  the  worst  sores  in  life  are  caused 
by  crumpled  rose-leaves  and  not  by  thorns. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  him  right,  for  I  remem- 
ber that  when  I  came  from  my  room  on  the 
morning  after  the  arrest,  and  found  hall  and  par- 
lour and  passage  empty,  and  all  the  common 
rooms  of  the  house  deserted,  and  no  meal  laid ; 
and  when  I  divined  anew  from  this  discovery  the 
feeling  of  the  house  towards  me — however  natural 
and  to  be  expected — I  remember  that  I  felt  as 
sharp  a  pang  as  when,  the  night  before,  I  had  had 
to   face   discovery   and   open  rage  and   scorn.      I 

-*74 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  275 

stood  in  the  silent,  empty  parlour,  and  looked  on 
the  familiar  things  with  a  sense  of  desolation,  of 
something  lost  and  gone,  which  I  could  not  under- 
stand. The  morning  was  grey  and  cloudy,  the  air 
sharp,  a  shower  was  falling.  The  rose-bushes  out- 
side swayed  in  the  wind,  and  inside,  where  I  could 
remember  the  hot  sunshine  lying  on  floor  and 
table,  the  rain  beat  in  and  stained  the  boards. 
The  inner  door  flapped  and  creaked  on  its  hinges. 
I  thought  of  other  days  and  of  meals  I  had  taken 
there,  and  of  the  scent  of  flowers  ;  and  I  fled  to  the 
hall  in  despair. 

But  here,  too,  were  no  signs  of  life  or  company, 
no  comfort,  no  attendance.  The  ashes  of  the 
logs,  by  whose  blaze  Mademoiselle  had  told  me 
the  secret,  lay  on  the  hearth  white  and  cold — 
fit  emblem  of  the  change  that  had  taken  place ; 
and  now  and  then  a  drop  of  moisture,  sliding 
down  the  great  chimney,  pattered  among  them. 
The  main  door  stood  open,  as  if  the  house  had 
no  longer  anything  to  guard.  The  only  living 
thing  to  be  seen  was  a  hound  which  roamed 
about  restlessly,  now  gazing  at  the  empty  hearth, 


276  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

now  lying  down  with  pricked  ears  and  watchful 
eyes.  Some  leaves,  which  had  been  blown  in  by 
the  wind,  rustled  in  a  corner. 

I  went  out  moodily  into  the  garden  and  wan- 
dered down  one  path  and  up  another,  looking 
at  the  dripping  woods,  and  remembering  things, 
until  I  came  to  the  stone  seat.  On  it,  against 
the  wall,  trickling  with  raindrops,  and  with  a  dead 
leaf  half  filling  its  narrow  neck,  stood  the  pitcher 
of  food.  I  thought  how  much  had  happened 
since  Mademoiselle  took  her  hand  from  it  and 
the  sergeant's  lanthorn  disclosed  it  to  me ;  and, 
sighing  grimly,  I  went  in  again  through  the  par- 
lour door, 

A  woman  was  on  her  knees,  on  the  hearth  kind- 
ling the  belated  fire.  She  had  her  back  to  me,  and 
I  stood  a  moment  looking  at  her  doubtfully,  won- 
dering how  she  would  bear  herself  and  what  she 
would  say  to  me.  Then  she  turned,  and  I  started 
back,  crying  out  her  name  in  horror — for  it  was 
Madame  !  Madame  de  Cocheforet ! 

She  was  plainly  dressed,  and  her  childish  face 
was  wan  and  piteous  with   weeping ;    but   either 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  277 

the  night  had  worn  out  her  passion  and  drained 
her  tears,  or  some  great  exigency  had  given  her 
temporary  calmness,  for  she  was  perfectly  com- 
posed. She  shivered  as  her  eyes  met  mine,  and 
she  blinked  as  if  a  bright  light  had  been  suddenly 
thrust  before  her;  but  that  was  all,  and  she 
turned  again  to  her  task  without  speaking. 

Madame !    Madame  1 '    I  cried  in   a   frenzy  of 
distress.     '  What  is  this  ?  * 

'The  servants  would  not  do  it,'  she  answered 
in  a  low  but  steady  voice.  'You  are  still  our 
guest.  Monsieur.' 

'But  I  cannot  suffer  it!'  I  cried.  'Madame 
de  Cocheforet,  I  will  not — ' 

She  raised  her  hand  with  a  strange  patient 
expression  in  her  face. 

'  Hush !  please,'  she  said.  '  Hush  !  you  trouble 
me.' 

The  fire  blazed  up  as  she  spoke,  and  she  rose 
slowly  from  it,  and  with  a  lingering  look  at  it 
went  out,  leaving  me  tc  stand  and  stare  and 
listen  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  Presently  I 
heard  her   coming   back   along   the  passage,  and 


27?  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

she  entered  bearing  a  tray  with  wine  and  meat 
and  bread.  She  set  it  down  on  the  table,  and 
with  the  same  wan  face,  trembling  always  on  the 
verge  of  tears,  she  began  to  lay  out  the  things. 
The  glasses  clinked  fitfully  against  the  plates  as 
she  handled  them  ;  the  knives  jarred  with  one 
another.  And  I  stood  by,  trembling  myself; 
and  endured  this  strange  kind  of  penance. 

She  signed  to  me  at  last  to  sit  down ;  and 
she  went  herself,  and  stood  in  the  garden  door- 
way with  her  back  to  me.  I  obeyed.  I  sat 
down.  But  though  I  had  eaten  nothing  since 
the  afternoon  of  the  day  before,  I  could  not 
swallow.  I  fumbled  with  my  knife,  and  drank ; 
and  grew  hot  and  angry  at  this  farce ;  and  then 
looked  through  the  window  at  the  dripping 
bushes,  and  the  rain  and  the  distant  sundial — 
and  grew  cold  again. 

Suddenly  she  turned  round  and  came  to  my  side. 

'You  do  not  eat,*  she  said. 

I  threw  down  my  knife,  and  sprang  up  in  a 
frenzy  of  passion.  '  Mon  Dieu  I  Madame,'  I 
cried.     '  Do  you  think  that  I  have  7io  heart  ? ' 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  279 

And  then  in  a  moment  I  knew  what  I  had  done, 
what  a  folly  I  had  committed.  For  in  a  moment 
she  was  on  her  knees  on  the  floor,  clasping  my 
knees,  pressing  her  wet  cheeks  to  my  rough 
clothes,  crying  to  me  for  mercy — for  life !  life  ! 
his  life !  Oh,  it  was  horrible !  It  was  horrible 
to  hear  her  gasping  voice,  to  see  her  fair  hair 
falling  over  my  mud-stained  boots,  to  mark  her 
slender  little  form  convulsed  with  sobs,  to  feel 
that  it  was  a  woman,  a  gentlewoman,  who  thus 
abased  herself  at  my  feet ! 

*  Oh,  Madame !  Madame ! '  I  cried  in  my  pain. 
'  I  beg  you  to  rise.     Rise,  or  I  must  go ! ' 

'  His  life  !  only  his  life ! '  she  moaned  passion- 
ately. '  What  had  he  done  to  you — that  you 
should  hunt  him  down  ?  what  have  we  done  to 
you  that  you  should  slay  us  ?  Oh  !  have  mercy  1 
Have  mercy !  Let  him  go,  and  we  will  pray  for 
you,  I  and  my  sister  will  pray  for  you,  every 
morning  and  night  of  our  lives.' 

I  was  in  terror  lest  someone  should  come  and  see 
her  lying  there,  and  I  stooped  and  tried  to  raise 
her.     But  she  only  sank  the  lower,  until  her  tender 


zSo  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

little  hands  touched  the  rowels  of  my  spurs.     I  dared 
not  move.     At  last  I  took  a  sudden  resolution, 

*  Listen,  then,  Madame!'  I  said  almost  sternly, 
'  if  you  will  not  rise.  You  forget  everything,  both 
how  I  stand,  and  how  small  my  power  is  I  You 
forget  that  if  I  were  to  release  your  husband  to- 
day he  would  be  seized  within  the  hour  by  those 
who  are  still  in  the  village  and  who  are  watching 
every  road — who  have  not  ceased  to  suspect  my 
movements  and  my  intentions.  You  forget,  I  say, 
my  circumstances — ' 

She  cut  me  short  on  that  word.  She  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  faced  me.  One  moment  more  and 
I  should  have  said  something  to  the  purpose. 
But  at  that  word  she  stood  before  me,  white, 
breathless,  dishevelled,  struggling  for  speech. 

*  Oh,  yes,  yes  ! '  she  panted  eagerly.  *  I  know — 
I  know ! '  And  she  thrust  her  hand  into  her 
bosom  and  plucked  something  out  and  gave  it 
to  me — forced  it  upon  me.  '  I  know — I  know  ! ' 
she  said  again.  '  Take  it,  and  God  reward  you, 
Monsieur !  God  reward  you !  We  give  it  freely 
— freely  and  thankfully  I ' 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  281 

I  stood  and  looked  at  her  and  it ;  and  slowly  I 
froze.  She  had  given  me  the  packet — the  packet 
I  had  restored  to  Mademoiselle — the  parcel  of 
jewels.  I  weighed  it  in  my  hands,  and  my  heart 
grew  hard  again,  for  I  knew  that  this  was  Made- 
moiselle's doing  ;  that  it  was  she  who,  mistrust- 
ing the  effect  of  Madame's  tears  and  prayers, 
had  armed  her  with  this  last  weapon — this  dirty 
bribe.  I  flung  it  down  on  the  table  among  the 
plates. 

'  Madame ! '  I  cried  ruthlessly,  all  my  pity 
changed  to  anger,  '  you  mistake  me  altogether ! 
I  have  heard  hard  words  enough  in  the  last 
twenty-four  hours,  and  I  know  what  you  think  of 
me !  But  you  have  yet  to  learn  that  I  have  never 
done  one  thing.  I  have  never  turned  traitor  to 
the  hand  that  employed  me,  nor  sold  my  own  side ! 
When  I  do  so  for  a  treasure  ten  times  the  worth 
of  that,  may  my  hand  rot  off ! ' 

She  sank  on  a  seat  with  a  moan  of  despair ;  and 
precisely  at  that  moment  M.  de  Cocheforet  opened 
the  door  and  came  in.  Over  his  shoulder  I  had  a 
glimpse  of  Mademoiselle's  proud  face,  a  little  v-hiter 


28a  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

than  of  yore,  with  dark  marks  under  the  eyes,  but 
like  Satan's  for  coldness. 

'What  is  this?'  he  said,  frowning,  as  his  eyes 
lighted  on  Madame. 

'  It  is — that  we  start  at  eleven  o'clock.  Monsieur,' 
I  answered,  bowing  curtly.  And  I  went  out  by 
the  other  door. 

That  I  might  not  be  present  at  their  parting  I 
remained  in  the  garden  until  the  hour  I  had 
appointed  was  well  past ;  and  then,  without  en- 
tering the  house,  I  went  to  the  stable  entrance. 
Here  I  found  all  in  readiness,  the  two  troopers 
whose  company  I  had  requisitioned  as  far  as  Auch, 
already  in  the  saddle,  my  own  two  knaves  waiting 
with  my  sorrel  and  M.  de  Cocheforet's  chestnut. 
Another  horse  was  being  led  up  and  down  by 
Louis,  and,  alas  !  my  heart  moved  at  the  sight,  for 
it  bore  a  lady's  saddle.  We  were  to  have  company 
then.  Was  it  Madame  who  meant  to  come  with 
us,  or  Mademoiselle?     And  how  far?      To  Auch  ? 

I  suppose  that  they  had  set  some  kind  of  a 
watch  on  me,  for  as  1  walked  up  M.  de  C!ocheforet 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  283 

and  his  sister  came  out  of  the  house ;  he  with  a 
pale  face  and  bright  eyes,  and  a  twitching  visible 
in  his  cheek — though  he  still  affected  a  jaunty 
bearing  ;  she  wearing  a  black  mask. 

'  Pvlademoiselle  accompanies  us  ? '  I  said  formally. 

'  With  your  permission,  Monsieur,'  he  answered 
with  bitter  politeness.  But  I  saw  that  he  was 
choking  with  emotion  ;  he  had  just  parted  from 
his  wife,  and  I  turned  away. 

When  we  were  all  mounted  he  looked  at  me. 

'  Perhaps — as  you  have  my  parole,  you  will 
permit  me  to  ride  alone  ? '  he  said  with  a  little 
hesitation.     '  And — ' 

'  Without  me  ! '  I  rejoined  keenly.  *  Assuredly, 
so  far  as  is  possible.' 

Accordingly  I  directed  the  troopers  to  ride  before 
him,  keeping  out  of  earshot,  while  my  two  men  fol- 
lowed him  at  a  little  distance  with  their  carabines  on 
their  knees.  Last  of  all,  I  rode  myself  with  my 
eyes  open  and  a  pistol  loose  in  my  holster.  M.  de 
Cocheforet  muttered  a  sneer  at  so  many  precau- 
tions and  the  mountain  made  of  his  request ;  but  I 
had  not  done  so  much  and  come  so  far,  I  had  not 


284  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

faced  scorn  and  insults  to  be  cheated  of  my  prize 
at  last ;  and  aware  that  until  we  were  beyond  Auch 
there  must  be  hourly  and  pressing  danger  of  a 
rescue,  I  was  determined  that  he  who  should  wrest 
my  prisoner  from  me  should  pay  dearly  for  it. 
Only  pride,  and,  perhaps,  in  a  degree  also,  appetite 
for  a  fight,  had  prevented  me  borrowing  ten  troopers 
instead  of  two. 

As  we  went  I  looked  with  a  lingering  eye  and 
many  memories  at  the  little  bridge,  the  narrow  wood- 
land path,  the  first  roofs  of  the  village;  all  now 
familiar,  all  seen  for  the  last  time.  Up  the  brook  a 
party  of  soldiers  were  dragging  for  the  captain's 
body.  A  furlong  farther  on,  a  cottage,  burned  by 
some  carelessness  in  the  night,  lay  a  heap  of  black 
ashes,  Louis  ran  beside  us  weeping ;  the  last 
brown  leaves  fluttered  down  in  showers.  And 
between  my  eyes  and  all,  the  slow  steady  rain  fell 
and  fell.     And  so  I  left  Cocheforet. 

Louis  went  with  us  to  a  point  a  mile  beyond 
the  village,  and  there  stood  and  saw  us  go, 
cursing  me  furiously  as  I  passed.  Looking  back 
when  we  had  ridden  on,    I    still  saw  him    stand- 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  285 

ing,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation  I  rode  back 
to  him. 

'  Listen,  fool  i '  I  said,  cutting  him  short  in  the 
midst  of  his  mowing  and  snarling,  •  and  give  this 
message  to  your  mistress.  Tell  her  from  me  that 
it  will  be  with  her  husband  as  it  was  with  M.  de 
Regnier,  when  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  enemy 
— no  better  and  no  worse.' 

*  You  want  to  kill  her,  too,  I  suppose  ? '  he 
answered  glowering  at  me. 

*No,  fool,  I  want  to  save  her,'  I  retorted 
wrathfuUy.  '  Tell  her  that,  just  that  and  no 
more,  and  you  will  see  the  result' 

'  I  shall  not,'  he  said  sullenly.  '  A  message 
from  you  indeed  ! '     And  he  spat  on  the  ground. 

'  Then  on  your  head  be  it,'  I  answered  solemnly. 

And  I  turned  my  horse's  head  and  galloped  fast 

after  the  others.     But    I    felt  sure  that  he  would 

report  what    I    had   said,   if  it  were  only  out   of 

curiosity  ;  and  it  would  be  strange  if  Madame,  a 

gentlewoman  of  the  south,  bred  among  old  family 

traditions,  did  not  understand  the  reference. 

And  so    we   began  our   journey;    sadly,   under 

U 


2?8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

dripping  trees  and  a  leaden  sky.  The  country 
we  had  to  traverse  was  the  same  I  had  trodden 
on  the  last  day  of  my  march  southwards,  but 
the  passage  of  a  month  had  changed  the  face  of 
everything.  Green  dells,  where  springs  welling 
out  of  the  chalk  had  once  made  of  the  leafy  bottom 
a  fairies'  home,  strewn  with  delicate  ferns  and  hung 
with  mosses,  were  now  swamps  into  which  our 
horses  sank  to  the  fetlock.  Sunny  brows,  whence 
I  had  viewed  the  champaign  and  traced  my  for- 
ward path,  had  become  bare,  wind-swept  ridges. 
The  beech  woods  that  had  glowed  with  ruddy 
light  were  naked  now ;  mere  black  trunks  and 
rigid  arms  pointing  to  heaven.  An  earthy  smell 
filled  the  air;  a  hundred  paces  away  a  wall  of 
mist  closed  the  view.  We  plodded  on  sadly  up 
hill  and  down  hill,  now  fording  brooks,  already 
stained  with  flood-water,  now  crossing  barren 
heaths.  But  up  hill  or  down  hill,  whatever  the 
outlook,  I  was  never  permitted  to  forget  that  I 
was  the  jailor,  the  ogre,  the  villain ;  that  I, 
riding  behind  in  my  loneliness,  was  the  blight  on 
all — the    death-spot.      True,    1    was    behind    the 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  287 

others — I  escaped  their  eyes.  But  there  was  not 
a  line  of  Mademoiselle's  figure  that  did  not  speak 
scorn  to  me ;  not  a  turn  of  head  that  did  not 
seem  to  say,  '  Oh,  God,  that  such  a  thing  should 
breathe.' 

I  had  only  speech  with  her  once  during  the 
day,  and  that  was  on  the  last  ridge  before  we 
went  down  into  the  valley  to  climb  up  again  to 
Auch.  The  rain  had  ceased ;  the  sun,  near  its 
setting,  shone  faintly;  for  a  few  moments  we 
stood  on  the  brow  and  looked  southwards  while 
we  breathed  the  horses.  The  mist  lay  like  a 
pall  on  the  country  we  had  traversed  ;  but  beyond 
and  above  it,  gleaming  pearl-like  in  the  level 
rays,  the  line  of  the  mountains  stood  up  like  a 
land  of  enchantment,  soft,  radiant,  wonderful ! — 
or  like  one  of  those  castles  on  the  Hill  of  Glass 
of  which  the  old  romances  tell  us.  I  forgot  for 
an  instant  how  we  were  placed,  and  I  cried  to 
my  neighbour  that  it  was  the  fairest  pageant  I 
had  ever  seen. 

She— it  was  Mademoiselle,  and  she  had  taken 
off  her    mask— cast   one  look  at    me  in    answer ; 


2SS  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

only  one,  but  it  conveyed  disgust  and  loathing 
so  unspeakable  that  scorn  beside  them  would 
have  been  a  gift.  I  reined  in  my  horse  as  if  she 
had  struck  me,  and  felt  myself  go  first  hot  and 
then  cold  under  her  eyes.  Then  she  looked 
another  way. 

But  I  did  not  forget  the  lesson  ;  and  after  that  I 
avoided  her  more  sedulously  than  before.  We 
lay  that  night  at  Auch,  and  I  gave  M.  de  Coche- 
foret  the  utmost  liberty,  even  permitting  him  to  go 
out  and  return  at  his  will.  In  the  morning,  be- 
lieving that  on  the  farther  side  of  Auch  we  ran 
little  risk  of  attack,  I  dismissed  the  two  dragoons, 
and  an  hour  after  sunrise  we  set  out  again.  The 
day  was  dry  and  cold,  the  weather  more  promising. 
I  proposed  to  go  by  way  of  Lectoure,  crossing  the 
Garonne  at  Agen  ;  and  I  thought  that,  with  roads 
continually  improving  as  we  moved  northwards, 
we  should  be  able  to  make  good  progress  before 
night.  My  two  men  rode  first,  I  came  last  by 
myself. 

Our  way  lay  down  the  valley  of  the  Gers,  under 
poplars  and  by  long  rows  of  willows,  and  presently 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  289 

the  sun  came  out  and  warmed  us.  Unfortunately 
the  rain  of  the  day  before  had  swollen  the  brooks 
which  crossed  our  path,  and  we  more  than  once 
had  a  difficulty  in  fording  them.  Noon  found  us 
little  more  than  half  way  to  Lectoure,  and  I  was 
growing  each  minute  more  impatient  when  our 
road,  which  had  for  a  little  while  left  the  river 
bank,  dropped  down  to  it  again,  and  I  saw  before 
us  another  crossing,  half  ford  half  slough.  My 
men  tried  it  gingerly  and  gave  back  and  tried  it 
again  in  another  place  ;  and  finally,  just  as  Made- 
moiselle and  her  brother  came  up  to  them, 
floundered  through  and  sprang  slantwise  up  the 
farther  bank. 

The  delay  had  been  long  enough  to  bring  m.e, 
with  no  good  will  of  my  own,  close  upon  the 
Cocheforets.  Mademoiselle's  horse  made  a  little 
business  of  the  place,  and  in  the  result  we  entered 
the  water  almost  together ;  and  I  crossed  close 
on  her  heels.  The  bank  on  either  side  was 
steep ;  while  crossing  we  could  see  neither  before 
nor  behind.  But  at  the  moment  I  thought  nothing 
of  this  nor  of  her  delay  ;    and  I  v/as  following  her 


290  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

quite  at  my  leisure  and  picking  my  way,  when  the 
sudden  report  of  a  carbine,  a  second  report,  and  a 
yell  of  alarm  in  front  thrilled  me  through. 

On  the  instant,  while  the  sound  was  still  in  my 
ears,  I  saw  it  all.  Like  a  hot  iron  piercing  my 
brain  the  truth  flashed  into  my  mind.  We 
were  attacked  1  We  were  attacked,  and  I  was 
here  helpless  in  this  pit,  this  trap !  The  loss 
of  a  second  while  I  fumbled  here,  Mademoiselle's 
horse  barring  the  way,  might  be  fatal. 

There  was  but  one  way.  I  turned  my  horse 
straight  at  the  steep  bank,  and  he  breasted  it. 
One  moment  he  hung  as  if  he  must  fall  back. 
Then,  with  a  snort  of  terror  and  a  desperate 
bound,  he  topped  it,  and  gained  the  level,  trem- 
bling and  snorting. 

Seventy  paces  away  on  the  road  lay  one  of 
my  men.  He  had  fallen,  horse  and  man,  and  lay 
still.  Near  him,  with  his  back  against  a  bank, 
stood  his  fellow,  on  foot,  pressed  by  four  horsemen, 
and  shouting.  As  my  eye  lighted  on  the  scene  he 
let  fly  with  a  carbine,  and  dropped  one. 

I  clutched  a  pistol  from  my  holster  and  seized 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  291 

my  horse  by  the  head.  I  might  save  the  man  yet, 
I  shouted  to  him  to  encourage  him,  and  was  driv- 
ing in  my  spurs  to  second  my  voice,  when  a  sudden 
vicious  blow,  swift  and  unexpected,  struck  the 
pistol  from  my  hand. 

I  made  a  snatch  at  it  as  it  fell,  but  missed  it,  and 
before  I  could  recover  myself,  Mademoiselle  thrust 
her  horse  furiously  against  mine,  and  with  her  rid- 
ing-whip lashed  the  sorrel  across  the  ears.  As  the 
horse  reared  up  madly,  I  had  a  glimpse  of  her  eyes 
flashing  hate  through  her  mask  ;  of  her  hand  again 
uplifted  ;  the  next  moment,  I  was  down  in  the 
road,  ingloriously  unhorsed,  the  sorrel  was  gallop- 
ing away,  and  her  horse,  scared  in  its  turn,  was 
plunging  unmanageably  a  score  of  paces  from  me. 

But  for  that  I  think  that  she  would  have 
trampled  on  me.  As  it  was,  I  was  free  to  rise, 
and  draw,  and  in  a  twinkling  was  running  towards 
the  fighters.  All  had  happened  in  a  few  seconds. 
My  man  was  still  defending  himself,  the  smoke  of 
the  carbine  had  scarcely  risen.  I  sprang  across  a 
fallen  tree  that  intervened,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment two  of    the   men  detached  themselves  and 


292  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

rode  to  meet  me.  One,  whom  I  took  be  the  leader, 
was  masked.  He  came  furiously  at  me  to  ride  me 
down,  but  I  leaped  aside  nimbly,  and,  evading  him, 
rushed  at  the  other,  and  scaring  his  horse,  so  that 
he  dropped  his  point,  cut  him  across  the  shoulder, 
before  he  could  guard  himself  He  plunged  away, 
cursing  and  trying  to  hold  in  his  horse,  and  I 
turned  to  meet  the  masked  man. 

'  You  villain ! '  he  cried,  riding  at  me  again. 
This  time  he  manoeuvred  his  horse  so  skilfully  that 
I  was  hard  put  to  it  to  prevent  him  knocking  me 
down  ;  while  I  could  not  with  all  my  efforts  reach 
him  to  hurt  him.  '  Surrender,  will  you  ?  '  he  cried, 
'  you  bloodhound  ! ' 

I  wounded  him  slightly  in  the  knee  for  answer ; 
before  I  could  do  more  his  companion  came  back, 
and  the  two  set  upon  me,  slashing  at  my  head  so 
furiously  and  towering  above  me  with  so  great  an 
advantage  that  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  guard  it.  I 
was  soon  glad  to  fall  back  against  the  bank.  In  this 
sort  of  conflict  my  rapier  would  have  been  of  little 
use,  but  fortunately  I  had  armed  myself  before  I 
left  Paris  with  a  cut-and-thrust  sword  for  the  road; 


"You  Villain!"  he  cried,  riding  at  me  again. 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  293 

and  though  my  masteiy  of  the  weapon  was  not  on 
a  par  with  my  rapier  play,  I  was  able  to  fend  off 
their  cuts,  and  by  an  occasional  prick  keep  the 
horses  at  a  distance.  Still,  they  swore  and  cut  at 
me  ;  and  it  was  trying  work.  A  little  delay  might 
enable  the  other  man  to  come  to  their  help,  or 
Mademoiselle,  for  all  I  knew,  might  shoot  me  with 
my  own  pistol.  I  was  unfeignedly  glad  when  a 
lucky  parade  sent  the  masked  man's  sword  flying 
across  the  road.  On  that  he  pushed  his  horse 
recklessly  at  me,  spurring  it  without  mercy ;  but 
the  animal,  which  I  had  several  times  touched, 
reared  up  instead,  and  threw  him  at  the  very 
moment  that  I  wounded  his  companion  a  second 
time  in  the  arm,  and  made  him  give  back 

The  scene  was  now  changed.  The  man  in  the 
mask  staggered  to  his  feet,  and  felt  stupidly  for  a 
pistol.  But  he  could  not  find  one,  and  he  was  in  no 
state  to  use  it  if  he  had.  He  reeled  helplessly  to 
the  bank  and  leaned  against  it.  The  man  I  had 
wounded  was  in  scarcely  better  condition.  He  re- 
treated before  me,  but  in  a  moment,  losing  courage, 
let  drop  his  sv/ord,  and,  wheeling  round,  cantered 


294  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

oft",  clinging  to  his  pommel.  There  remained  only 
the  fellow  engaged  with  my  man,  and  I  turned  to 
see  how  they  were  getting  on.  They  were  stand- 
ing to  take  breath,  so  I  ran  towards  them ;  but  on 
seeing  me  coming,  this  rascal,  too,  whipped  round 
his  horse  and  disappeared  in  the  wood,  and  left  us 
victors. 

The  first  thing  I  did — and  I  remember  it  to  this 
day  with  pleasure — was  to  plunge  my  hand  into 
my  pocket,  take  out  half  of  all  the  money  I  had  in 
the  world,  and  press  it  on  the  man  who  had  fought 
for  me  so  stoutly.  In  my  joy  I  could  have  kissed 
him !  It  was  not  only  that  I  had  escaped  defeat 
by  the  skin  of  my  teeth — and  his  good  sword  ;  but 
I  knew,  and  felt,  and  thrilled  with  the  knowledge, 
that  the  fight  had,  in  a  sense,  redeemed  my  char- 
acter. He  was  wounded  in  two  places,  and  I  had 
a  scratch  or  two,  and  had  lost  my  horse ;  and  my 
other  poor  fellow  was  dead  as  a  herring.  But, 
speaking  for  myself,  I  would  have  spent  half  the 
blood  in  my  body  to  purchase  the  feeling  with 
which  I  turned  back  to  speak  to  M.  de  Cochcforet 
and   his   sister.       Mademoiselle  bad    dismounted, 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  295 

and  with  her  face  averted  and  her  mask  pushed 
on  one  side,  was  openly  weeping.  Her  brother, 
who  had  faithfully  kept  his  place  by  the  ford  from 
the  beginning  of  the  fight  to  the  end,  met  me  with 
raised  eyebrows  and  a  peculiar  smile, 

*  Acknowledge  my  virtue/  he  said  airily.  '  I  am 
here,  M,  de  Berault;  which  is  more  than  can  be 
said  of  the  two  gentlemen  who  have  just  ridden 
off.' 

'  Yes,'  I  answered  with  a  touch  of  bitterness.  •  I 
wish  that  they  had  not  shot  my  poor  man  before 
they  went* 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

*  They  were  my  friends,'  he  said.  '  You  must 
not  expect  me  to  blame  them.  But  that  is  not 
all,  M.  de  Berault.' 

'  No,'  I  said,  wiping  my  sword.  *  There  is  this 
gentleman  in  the  mask.'  And  I  turned  to  go 
towards  him. 

'M.  de  Berault!'  Cocheforet  called  after  me, 
his  tone  strained  and  abrupt. 

I  stood.     '  Pardon  ? '  I  said,  turning. 

'  That  gentleman  ? '  he  said,  hesitating  and  look 


296  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

ing  at  me  doubtfully.  '  Have  you  considered  what 
will  happen  to  him  if  you  give  him  up  to  the 
authorities  ? ' 

'  Who  is  he  ? '  I  asked  sharply. 

'  That  is  rather  a  delicate  question,'  he  answered 
frowning. 

•  Not  for  me,'  I  replied  brutally,  *  since  he  is  in 
my  power.  If  he  will  take  off  his  mask  I  shall 
know  better  what  I  intend  to  do  with  him.' 

The  stranger  had  lost  his  hat  in  his  fall,  and  his 
fair  hair,  stained  with  dust,  hung  in  curls  on  his 
shoulders.  He  was  a  tall  man,  of  a  slender,  hand- 
some presence,  and,  though  his  dress  was  plain 
and  almost  rough,  I  espied  a  splendid  jewel  on  his 
hand,  and  fancied  that  I  detected  other  signs  of 
high  quality.  He  still  lay  against  the  bank  in  a 
half-swooning  condition,  and  seemed  unconscious 
of  my  scrutiny. 

•Should  I  know  him  if  he  unmasked?'  I  said 
suddenly,  a  new  idea  in  my  head. 

'  You  would,'  M.  de  Cocheforet  answered. 

'  And  ?  • 

'  It  would  be  bad  for  cveiyone.' 


THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS  S97 

•  Ho !  ho ! '  I  replied  softly,  looking  hard  first  at 
my  old  prisoner,  and  then  at  my  new  one.  '  Then 
— what  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ? ' 

*  Leave  him  here ! '  M.  de  Cocheforet  answered, 
his  face  flushed,  the  pulse  in  his  cheek  beating. 

I  had  known  him  for  a  man  of  perfect  honour 
before,  and  trusted  him.  But  this  evident  earnest 
anxiety  on  behalf  of  his  friend  touched  me  not  a 
little.  Besides,  I  knew  that  I  was  treading  on 
slippery  ground :  that  it  behoved  me  to  be 
careful. 

'  I  will  do  it,'  I  said  after  a  moment's  reflection. 
'  He  will  play  me  no  tricks,  I  suppose  ?  A  letter 
of—' 

'  Mon  Dieu,  no !  He  will  understand,'  Coche- 
foret answered  eagerly.  *  You  will  not  repent  it. 
Let  us  be  going.' 

'  Well,  but  my  horse  ? '  I  said,  somewhat  taken 
aback  by  this  extreme  haste.     *  How  am  I  to — ' 

'  We  shall  overtake  it,'  he  assured  me.  '  It  will 
have  kept  the  road.  Lectoure  is  no  more  than  a 
league  from  here,  and  we  can  give  orders  there  to 
have  these  two  fetched  and  buried.' 


298  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  had  nothing  to  gain  by  demurring,  and  so, 
after  another  word  or  two,  it  was  arranged.  We 
picked  up  what  we  had  dropped,  M.  de  Coche- 
foret  helped  his  sister  to  mount,  and  within  five 
minutes  we  were  gone.  Casting  a  glance  back 
from  the  skirts  of  the  wood  I  fancied  that  I  saw 
the  masked  man  straighten  himself  and  turn  to 
look  after  us,  but  the  leaves  were  beginning  to 
intervene,  the  distance  may  have  cheated  me.  And 
yet  I  was  not  indisposed  to  think  the  unknown  a 
trifle  more  observant,  and  a  little  less  seriously 
hurt,  than  he  seemed 


CHAPTER    XIII 

AT     THE    FINGER-POST 

'T^H ROUGH  all,  it  will  have  been  noticed, 
Mademoiselle  had  not  spoken  to  me,  nor 
said  one  word,  good  or  bad.  She  had  played  her 
part  grimly,  had  taken  defeat  in  silence  if  with 
tears,  had  tried  neither  prayer  nor  defence  nor 
apology.  And  the  fact  that  the  fight  was  now 
over,  and  the  scene  left  behind,  made  no  difference 
in  her  conduct  She  kept  her  face  studiously 
turned  from  me,  and  affected  to  ignore  my  pre- 
sence. I  caught  my  horse  feeding  by  the  roadside, 
a  furlong  forward,  and  mounted  and  fell  into  place 
behind  the  two,  as  in  the  morning.  And  just  as 
we  had  plodded  on  then  in  silence  we  plodded  on 
now ;   almost  as  if  nothing  had  happened ;   while 

I  wondered  at  the  unfathomable  ways  of  women, 

299 


300  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

and  marvelled  that  she  could  take  part  in  such 
an  incident  and  remain  unchanged. 

Yet,  though  she  strove  to  hide  it,  it  had  made 
a  change  in  her.  Though  her  mask  served  her 
well  it  could  not  entirely  hide  her  emotions ;  and 
by-and-by  I  marked  that  her  head  drooped,  that 
she  rode  listlessly,  that  the  lines  of  her  figure  were 
altered.  I  noticed  that  she  had  flung  away,  or 
furtively  dropped,  her  riding-whip  ;  and  I  began 
to  understand  that,  far  from  the  fight  having  set 
me  in  my  former  place,  to  the  old  hatred  of  me 
were  now  added  shame  and  vexation  on  her  own 
account ;  shame  that  she  had  so  lowered  herself, 
even  to  save  her  brother,  vexation  that  defeat  had 
been  her  only  reward. 

Of  this  I  saw  a  sign  at  Lectoure,  where  the  inn 
had  but  one  common  room  and  we  must  all  dine 
in  company.  I  secured  for  them  a  table  by  the 
fire,  and  leaving  them  standing  by  it,  retired  my- 
self to  a  smaller  one  near  the  door.  There  were 
no  other  guests  ;  which  made  the  separation  be- 
tween us  more  marked.  M.  de  Cocheforet  seemed 
to  feel  this.     He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  looked 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  301 

across  the  room  at  me  with  a  smile  half  sad  half 

comical.    But  Mademoiselle  was  implacable.     She 

had  taken  off  her   mask,  and  her  face  was  like 

stone.     Once,  only  once   during  the  meal,  I  saw 

a  change  come  over  her.     She  coloured,  I  suppose 

at  her  thoughts,  until  her  face  flamed  from  brow 

to  chin.     I  watched  the  blush  spread  and  spread ; 

and    then    she    slowly   and    proudly   turned   her 

shoulder  to  me  and  looked    through  the  window 

at  the  shabby  street. 

I  suppose  that  she  and  her  brother  had  both 

built  on    this    attempt,   which    must   have    been 

arranged  at  Auch.     For  when  we  went  on  in  the 

afternoon,   I    marked   a   change   in   them.     They 

rode  like  people  resigned  to  the  worst.     The  grey 

realities  of  the  position,  the  dreary  future  began  to 

hang  like  a  mist  before  their  eyes,  began  to  tinge 

the  landscape  with  sadness,  robbed  even  the  sunset 

of  its  colours.     With  each  hour  Monsieur's  spirits 

flagged  and  his  speech  became  less  frequent ;  until 

presently  when  the  light  was  nearly  gone  and  the 

dusk  was   round  us  the  brother  and   sister  rode 

hand  in  hand,  silent,  gloomy,  one  at  least  of  them 

X 


302  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

weeping.  The  cold  shadow  of  the  Cardinal,  of 
Paris,  of  the  scaffold  fell  on  them,  and  chilled 
them.  As  the  mountains  which  they  had  known 
all  their  lives  sank  and  faded  behind  us,  and  we 
entered  on  the  wide,  low  valley  of  the  Garonne, 
their  hopes  sank  and  faded  also  —  sank  to  the 
dead  level  of  despair  Surrounded  by  guards,  a 
mark  for  curious  glances,  with  pride  for  a  com- 
panion, M.  de  Cocheforet  could  have  borne  him- 
self bravely ;  doubtless  would  bear  himself  bravely 
still  when  the  end  came.  But  almost  alone,  moving 
forward  through  the  grey  evening  to  a  prison, 
with  so  many  measured  days  before  him,  and 
nothing  to  exhilarate  or  anger — in  this  condition 
it  was  little  wonder  if  he  felt,  and  betrayed  that 
he  felt,  the  blood  run  slow  in  his  veins ;  if  he 
thought  more  of  the  weeping  wife  and  ruined 
home  which  he  had  left  behind  him  than  of  the 
cause  in  which  he  had  spent  himself. 

But  God  knows,  they  had  no  monopoly  of 
gloom.  I  felt  almost  as  sad  myself.  Long  before 
sunset  the  flush  of  triumph,  the  heat  of  battle, 
which  had  warmed  my  heart  at  noon,  were  gone, 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  303 

giving  place  to  a  chill  dissatisfaction,  a  nausea,  a 
despondency  such  as  I  have  known  follow  a  long 
night  at  the  tables.  Hitherto  there  had  been 
difficulties  to  be  overcome,  risks  to  be  run,  doubts 
about  the  end,  Now  the  end  was  certain  and 
very  near ;  so  near  that  it  filled  all  the  prospect. 
One  hour  of  triumph  I  might  have,  and  would 
have,  and  I  hugged  the  thought  of  it  as  a  gambler 
hugs  his  last  stake,  planning  the  place  and  time 
and  mode,  and  trying  to  occupy  myself  wholly 
with  it.  But  the  price  ?  Alas !  that  too  would 
intrude  itself,  and  more  frequently  as  the  evening 
waned  ;  so  that  as  I  marked  this  or  that  thing 
by  the  road,  which  I  could  recall  passing  on  my 
journey  south  with  thoughts  so  different,  with 
plans  that  now  seemed  so  very,  very  old,  I  asked 
myself  grimly  if  this  were  really  I ;  if  this  were 
Gil  de  Berault,  known  at  Zaton's,  premier  joueur^ 
or  some  Don  Quichotte  from  Castille,  tilting  at 
windmills  and  taking  barbers'  bowls  for  gold. 

We  reached  Agen  very  late  that  evening,  after 
groping  our  way  through  a  by-road  near  the  river, 
set  with  holes  and  willow-stools  and  frog-spawn — 


304  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

a  place  no  better  than  a  slough ;  so  that  after  it 
the  great  fires  and  lights  at  the  Blue  Maid  seemed 
like  a  glimpse  of  a  new  world,  and  in  a  twinkling 
put  something  of  life  and  spirits  into  two  at  least 
of  us.  There  was  queer  talk  round  the  hearth 
here,  of  doings  in  Paris,  of  a  stir  against  the  Cardi- 
nal with  the  Queen-mother  at  bottom,  and  of 
grounded  expectations  that  something  might  this 
time  come  of  it.  But  the  landlord  pooh-poohed 
the  idea  ;  and  I  more  than  agreed  with  him.  Even 
M.  de  Cocheforet,  who  was  at  first  inclined  to 
build  on  it,  gave  up  hope  when  he  heard  that  it 
fame  only  by  way  of  Montauban  ;  whence — since 
its  reduction  the  year  before — all  sort  of  canards 
against  the  Cardinal  were  always  on  the  wing. 

'  They  kill  him  about  once  a  month,'  our  host 
said  with  a  grin.  '  Sometimes  it  is  Monsieur  is 
to  prove  a  match  for  him,  sometimes  Cesar  Mon- 
sieur— the  Duke  of  Vendome,  you  understand — 
and  sometimes  the  Queen-mother.  But  since  M. 
de  Chalais  and  the  Marshal  made  a  mess  of  it 
and  paid  forfeit,  I  pin  my  faith  to  his  Eminence — 
that  is  his  new  title,  they  tell  me.' 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  305 

'  Things  are  quiet  round  here  ? '  I  asked. 

'  Perfectly.  Since  the  Languedoc  business  came 
to  an  end,  all  goes  well,'  he  answered. 

Mademoiselle  had  retired  on  our  arrival,  so  that 
her  brother  and  I  were  for  a  hour  or  two  this  even- 
ing thrown  together.  I  left  him  at  liberty  to 
separate  himself  from  me  if  he  pleased,  but  he  did  not 
use  the  opportunity.  A  kind  of  comradeship,  ren- 
dered piquant  by  our  peculiar  relations,  had  begun 
to  spring  up  between  us.  He  seemed  to  take  an  odd 
pleasure  in  my  company,  more  than  once  rallied 
me  on  my  post  of  jailor,  would  ask  humorously  if 
he  might  do  this  or  that ;  and  once  even  inquired 
what  I  should  do  if  he  broke  his  parole. 

'  Or  take  it  this  way,'  he  continued  flippantly. 
'  Suppose  I  had  struck  you  in  the  back  this 
evening  in  that  cursed  swamp  by  the  river,  M.  de 
Berault  ?  What  then !  Pardieu,  I  am  astonished 
at  myself  that  I  did  not  do  it  I  could  have 
been  in  Montauban  within  twenty-four  hours, 
and  found  fifty  hiding-places  and  no  one  the 
wiser.' 

'  Except  your  sister,'  I  said  quietly. 


3o6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

He  made  a  wry  face.  '  Yes,'  he  ^id,  '  I  am 
afraid  that  I  must  have  stabbed  her  too,  to  preserve 
my  self-respect  You  are  right.'  And  he  fell  into 
a  reverie  which  held  him  for  a  few  minutes.  Then 
I  found  him  looking  at  me  with  a  kind  of  frank 
perplexity  that  invited  question. 

*  What  is  it  ? '  I  said. 

'  You  have  fought  a  great  many  duels  ?  * 
'Yes,'  I  said. 

*  Did  you  ever  strike  a  foul  blow  in  one  ? ' 
'  Never,'  I  answered.     *  Why  do  you  ask  ? 
'Well,   because — I    wanted   to   confirm    an   im- 
pression.    To  be  frank,  M.  de  Berault,  I  .seem  to 
see  in  you  two  men.' 

'  Two  men  ? ' 

'  Yes,  two  men.  One,  the  man  who  captured 
me  ;  the  other,  the  man  who  let  my  friend  go  free 
to-day.' 

*  It  surprised  you  that  I  let  him  go  ?  That  was 
prudence,  M.  de  Cocheforet,'  I  replied.  '  I  am  an 
old  gambler.  I  know  when  the  stakes  are  too 
high  for  me.  The  man  who  caught  a  lion  in  his 
woif-pit  had  no  great  catch.' 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  307 

*No,  that  is  true,'  he  answered  smiling.  'And 
yet — I  find  two  men  in  your  skin.' 

*  1  daresay  that  there  are  two  in  most  men's 
skins/  I  answered  with  a  sigh.  '  But  not  always 
together.  Sometimes  one  is  there,  and  sometimes 
the  other.' 

'  How  does  the  one  like  taking  up  the  other's 
work  ? '  he  asked  keenly. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  *  That  is  as  may  be,' 
I  said,  'You  do  not  take  an  estate  without  the 
debts.' 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  and  I  fancied 
that  his  thoughts  had  reverted  to  his  own  case. 
But  on  a  sudden  he  looked  at  me  again.  '  Will 
you  answer  a  question,  M.  de  Berault?'  he  said 
winningly, 

'Perhaps,'  I  replied. 

'  Then  tell  me — it  is  a  tale  I  am  sure  worth  the 
telling.  What  was  it  that,  in  a  very  evil  hour  for 
me,  sent  you  in  search  of  me  ?' 

'  My  Lord  Cardinal,'  I  answered. 

'  I  did  not  ask  who,'  he  replied  drily.  '  I  asked, 
what     You  had  no  grudge  against  me  ? ' 


3o8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'No.' 

'  No  knowledge  of  me  ? ' 

'No.' 

'  Then  what  on  earth  induced  you  to  do  it  ? 
Heavens !  man/  he  continued  bluntly,  and  speak- 
ing with  greater  freedom  than  he  had  before  used, 
'  Nature  never  intended  you  for  a  tipstaff.  What 
was  it  then  ?  ' 

I  rose.  It  was  very  late,  and  the  room  was 
empty,  the  fire  low. 

'  I  will  tell  you — to-morrow,'  I  said.  '  I  shall 
have  something  to  say  to  you  then,  of  which  that 
will  be  part' 

He  looked  at  me  in  great  astonishment,  and 
with  a  little  suspicion.  But  I  called  for  a  light, 
and  by  going  at  once  to  bed,  cut  short  his 
questions.  In  the  morning  we  did  not  meet 
until  it  was  time  to  start 

Those  who  know  the  south  road  to  Agen,  and 
how  the  vineyards  rise  in  terraces  north  of  the 
town,  one  level  of  red  earth  above  another,  green 
in  summer,  but  in  late  autumn  bare  and  stony, 
may  remember  a  particular  place  where  the  road, 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  309 

two  leagues  from  the  town,  runs  up  a  steep  hill. 
At  the  top  of  the  hill  four  roads  meet ;  and  there, 
plain  to  be  seen  against  the  sky,  is  a  finger-post 
indicating  which  way  leads  to  Bordeaux,  and 
which  to  old  tiled  Montauban,  and  which  to 
Perigueux. 

This  hill  had  impressed  me  greatly  on  my 
journey  south ;  perhaps  because  I  had  enjoyed 
from  it  my  first  extended  view  of  the  Garonne 
Valley,  and  had  there  felt  myself  on  the  verge  of 
the  south  country  where  my  mission  lay.  It  had 
taken  root  in  my  memory,  so  that  I  had  come  to 
look  upon  its  bare  rounded  head,  with  the  guide- 
post  and  the  four  roads,  as  the  first  outpost  of 
Paris,  as  the  first  sign  of  return  to  the  old  life. 

Now  for  two  days  I  had  been  looking  forward 
to  seeing  it  again.  That  long  stretch  of  road 
would  do  admirably  for  something  I  had  in  my 
mind.  That  sign-post,  with  the  roads  pointing 
north,  south,  east,  and  west  —  could  there  be  a 
better  place  for  meetings  and  partings? 

We  came  to  the  bottom  of  the  ascent  about  an 
hour  before  noon,  M.  de  Cocheforet,  Mademoiselle, 


3IO  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

and  I.  We  had  reversed  the  order  of  yesterday, 
and  I  rode  ahead  ;  they  came  after  at  their  leisure. 
Now,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  I  stopped,  and  letting 
Mademoiselle  pass  on,  detained  M.  de  Cocheforet 
by  a  gesture. 

'  Pardon  me,  one  moment,'  I  said.  '  I  want  to 
ask  a  favour.' 

He  looked  at  me  somewhat  fretfully ;  with  a 
gleam  of  wildness  in  his  eyes  that  betrayed  how 
the  iron  was,  little  by  little,  eating  into  his  heart 
He  had  started  after  breakfast  as  gaily  as  a 
bridegroom,  but  gradually  he  had  sunk  below 
himself;  and  now  he  had  much  ado  to  curb  his 
impatience. 

'  Of  me  ? '  he  said  bitterly.     '  What  is  it  ? ' 
'  I  wish  to  have  a  few  words  with  Mademoiselle 
— alone,'  I  said. 

'  Alone  ? '  he  exclaimed  in  astonishment 
*  Yes/  I  replied,  without  blenching,  though  his 
face  grew  dark.  '  For  the  matter  of  that,  you  can 
be  within  call  all  the  time,  if  you  please.  But  I 
have  a  reason  for  wishing  to  ride  a  little  way 
with  her.' 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  311 

'  To  tell  her  something  ? ' 
« Yes.' 

'Then  you  can  tell  it  to  me,'  he  retorted  sus- 
piciously. 'Mademoiselle,  I  will  answer  for  it, 
has  no  desire  to — ' 

'  See  me  or  speak  to  me  ?  No,'  I  said.  '  I  can 
understand  that.     Yet  I  want  to  speak  to  her.' 

•  Very  well,  you  can  speak  in  my  presence,'  he 
answered  rudely.  *If  that  be  all,  let  us  ride  on 
and  join  her.'  And  he  made  a  movement  as  if  to 
do  so. 

'That  will  not  do,  M.  de  Cocheforet,'  I  said 
flrmly,  stopping  him  with  my  hand.  *  Let  me  beg 
you  to  be  more  complaisant.  It  is  a  small  thing  1 
ask,  a  very  small  thing  ;  but  I  swear  to  you  that  if 
Mademoiselle  does  not  grant  it,  she  will  repent  it 
all  her  life. 

He  looked  at  me,  his  face  growing  darker  and 
darker. 

♦Fine  words,'  he  said,  with  a  sneer.  'Yet  I 
fancy  I  understand  them.'  And  then  with  a 
passionate  oath  he  broke  out.  'But  I  will  not 
have  it !     I  have  not  been  blind,  M.  de  Berault, 


312  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

and  I  unJcrstand.  But  I  will  not  have  it.  I  will 
have  no  such  Judas  bargain  made.  Pardieu! 
do  you  think  I  could  suffer  it  and  show  my  face 
again  ? ' 

'  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,'  I  said,  restrain- 
ing myself  with  difficulty.  I  could  have  struck  the 
fool. 

'  But  I  know  what  you  mean,'  he  replied,  in  a 
tone  of  suppressed  rage.  '  You  would  have  hei 
sell  herself ;  sell  herself  to  you  to  save  me.  And 
you  would  have  me  stand  by  and  see  the  thing 
done.  No,  Sir,  never;  never,  though  I  go  to  the 
wheel.  I  will  die  a  gentleman,  if  I  have  lived  a 
fool.' 

'  I  think  that  you  will  do  the  one  as  certainly  as 
you  have  done  the  other,'  I  retorted  in  my  exas- 
peration.    And  yet  I  admired  him. 

'  Oh,  I  am  not  quite  a  fool ! '  he  cried,  scowling 
at  me.     '  I  have  used  my  eyes.' 

'  Then  be  good  enough  to  favour  me  with  your 
ears ! '  I  answered  drily.  '  For  just  a  moment. 
And  listen  when  I  say  that  no  such  bargain  has 
ever  crossed  my  mind.     You  were  kind  enough  to 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  313 

think  well  of  me  last  night,  M.  de  Cocheforet.  Why 
should  the  mention  of  Mademoiselle  in  a  moment 
change  your  opinion  ?  I  wish  simply  to  speak  to 
her.  I  have  nothing  to  ask  from  her,  nothing  to 
expect  from  her,  either  favour  or  anything  else. 
What  I  say  she  will  doubtless  tell  you.  OV/,  man  ! 
what  harm  can  I  do  to  her,  in  the  road  in  your 
sight  ? ' 

He  looked  at  me  sullenly,  his  face  still  flushed, 
his  eyes  suspicious. 

'What  do  you  want  to  say  to  her?'  he  asked 
jealously.  He  was  quite  unlike  himself.  His  airy 
nonchalance,  his  careless  gaiety  were  gone. 

'You  know  what  I  do  not  want  to  say  to  her, 
M.  de  Cocheforet,'  I  answered.  '  That  should  be 
enough.' 

He  glowered  at  me  a  moment,  still  ill  content. 
Then,  without  a  word,  he  made  me  a  gesture  to 
go  to  her. 

She  had  halted  a  score  of  paces  away ;  wonder- 
ing, doubtless,  what  was  on  foot.  I  rode  towards 
her.  She  wore  her  mask,  so  that  I  missed  the 
expression  of  her  face  as  I  approached ;   but  the 


314  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

manner  in  which  she  turned  her  horse's  head  uncom- 
promisingly towards  her  brother  and  looked  past  me 
was  full  of  meaning.  I  felt  the  ground  suddenly 
cut  from  under  me.     I  saluted  her,  trembling. 

'  Mademoiselle,'  I  said,  *  will  you  grant  me  the 
privilege  of  your  company  for  a  few  minutes  as 
we  ride  ? ' 

'  To  what  purpose  ? '  she  answered  ;  surely,  in 
the  coldest  voice  in  which  a  woman  ever  spoke 
to  a  man. 

'  That  I  may  explain  to  you  a  great  many  things 
you  do  not  understand,'  I  murmured. 

'  I  prefer  to  be  in  the  dark,'  she  replied.  And 
her  manner  was  more  cruel  than  her  words. 

'But,  Mademoiselle,'  I  pleaded — I  would  not  be 
discouraged — 'you  told  me  one  day,  not  so  long 
ago,  that  you  would  never  judge  me  hastily  again.' 

'  Facts  judge  you,  not  I,'  she  answered  icily.  '  I 
am  not  sufficiently  on  a  level  with  you  to  be  able 
to  judge  you — I  thank  God.' 

I  shivered  though  the  sun  was  on  me,  and  the 
hollow  where  we  stood  was  warm. 

'Still,    once    before  you   thought   the   same.'    I 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  315 

exclaimed  after  a  pause,  *  and  afterwards  you  found 
that  you  had  been  wrong.  It  may  be  so  again. 
Mademoiselle. 

'  Impossible,'  she  said. 

That  stung  me. 

'  No,'  I  cried.  '  It  is  not  impossible.  It  is  you 
who  are  impossible.  It  is  you  who  are  heartless, 
Mademoiselle.  I  have  done  much  in  the  last  three 
days  to  make  things  lighter  for  you,  much  to  make 
things  more  easy ;  now  I  ask  you  to  do  something 
in  return  which  can  cost  you  nothing.' 

'Nothing?'  she  answered  slowly — and  she  looked 
at  me ;  and  her  eyes  and  her  voice  cut  me  as  if 
they  had  been  knives.  '  Nothing  ?  Do  you  think, 
Monsieur,  it  costs  me  nothing  to  lose  my  self- 
respect,  as  I  do  with  every  word  I  speak  to 
you?  Do  you  think  it  costs  me  nothing  to  be 
here  when  I  feel  every  look  you  cast  upon  me 
an  insult,  every  breath  I  take  in  your  presence 
a  contamination  ?  Nothing,  Monsieur  ? '  she  con- 
tinued with  bitter  irony.  '  Nay,  something  !  But 
something  which  I  could  not  hope  to  make  clear 
to  you.' 


3i6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

I  sat  for  a  moment  confounded,  quivering  with 
pain.  It  had  been  one  thing  to  feel  that  she  hated 
and  scorned  me,  to  know  that  the  trust  and  con- 
fidence which  she  had  begun  to  place  in  me  were 
transformed  to  loathing.  It  was  another  to  listen 
to  her  hard,  pitiless  words,  to  change  colour  under 
the  lash  of  her  gibing  tongue.  For  a  moment  I 
could  not  find  voice  to  answer  her.  Then  I  pointed 
to  M.  de  Cocheforet. 

'  Do  you  love  him  ? '  I  said  hoarsely,  roughly. 
The  gibing  tone  had  passed  from  her  voice  to 
mine. 

She  did  not  answer. 

'  Because  if  you  do  you  will  let  me  tell  my  tale. 
Say  no,  but  once  more.  Mademoiselle — I  am  only 
human — and  I  go.  And  you  will  repent  it  all 
your  life.' 

I  had  done  better  had  I  taken  that  tone  from 
the  beginning.  She  winced,  her  head  dropped, 
she  seemed  to  grow  smaller.  All  in  a  moment, 
as  it  were,  her  pride  collapsed. 

*  I  will  hear  you,'  she  murmured. 

'  Then   we  will   ride  on,  if  you   please,'   I   said, 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  317 

keeping  the  advantage  I  had  gained.  '  You  need 
not  fear.     Your  brother  will  follow.' 

I  caught  hold  of  her  rein  and  turned  her  horse, 
and  she  suffered  it  without  demur ;  and  in  a 
moment  we  were  pacing  side  by  side,  with  the 
long  straight  road  before  us.  At  the  end  where 
it  topped  the  hill,  I  could  see  the  finger-post, 
two  faint  black  lines  against  the  sky.  When  we 
reached  that — involuntarily  I  checked  my  horse 
and  made  it  move  more  slowly. 

'Well,  sir?'  she  said  impatiently.  And  her 
figure  shook  as  with  cold. 

'  It  is  a  tale  I  desire  to  tell  you,  Mademoiselle,'  I 
answered.  *  Perhaps  I  may  seem  to  begin  a  long 
way  off,  but  before  I  end  I  promise  to  interest  you. 
Two  months  ago  there  was  living  in  Paris  a  man — 
perhaps  a  bad  man — at  any  rate,  by  common 
report  a  hard  man  ;  a  man  with  a  peculiar  re- 
putation.' 

She  turned  on  me  sudienly,  her  eyes  gleaming 
through  her  mask. 

•  Oh,  Monsieur,  spare  me  this  ! '  she  said,  quietly 
scornful.     *  I  will  take  it  for  granted.' 


3i8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'Very  well,'  I  replied  steadfastly.  '  Good  or  bad, 
he  one  day,  in  defiance  of  the  Cardinal's  edict 
against  duelling,  fought  with  a  young  Englishman 
behind  St  Jacques'  Church.  The  Englishman  had 
influence,  the  person  of  whom  I  speak  had  none, 
and  an  indifferent  name ;  he  was  arrested,  thrown 
into  the  Ch^telet,  cast  for  death,  left  for  days  to 
face  death.  At  last  an  offer  was  made  to  him.  If 
he  would  seek  out  and  deliver  up  another  man, 
an  outlaw  with  a  price  upon  his  head,  he  should 
himself  go  free.' 

I  paused  and  drew  a  deep  breath.  Then  I  con- 
tinued, looking  not  at  her,  but  into  the  distance, 
and  speaking  slowly. 

'  Mademoiselle,  it  seems  easy  now  to  say  what 
course  he  should  have  chosen.  It  seems  hard  now 
to  find  excuses  for  him.  But  there  was  one  thing 
which  I  plead  for  him.  The  task  he  was  asked  to 
undertake  was  a  dangerous  one.  He  risked,  he  knew 
that  he  must  risk,  and  the  event  proved  him  to  be 
right,  his  life  against  the  life  of  this  unknown  man. 
And  one  thing  more  ;  time  was  before  him.  The 
outlaw  might  Lc  taken  by  another,  might  be  killed, 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  319 

might  die,  might —  But  there,  Mademoiselle,  we 
know  what  answer  this  person  made.  He  took  the 
baser  course,  and  on  his  honour,  on  his  parole,  with 
money  supplied  to  him,  he  went  free  ;  free  on  the 
condition  that  he  delivered  up  this  other  man.' 

I  paused  again,  but  I  did  not  dare  to  look  at  her ; 
and  after  a  moment  of  silence  I  resumed. 

'Some  portion  of  the  second  half  of  the  story 
you  know.  Mademoiselle  ;  but  not  all.  Suffice  it 
that  this  man  came  down  to  a  remote  village,  and 
there  at  risk,  but,  Heaven  knows,  basely  enough, 
found  his  way  into  his  victim's  home.  Once  there, 
however,  his  heart  began  to  fail  him.  Had  he  found 
the  house  garrisoned  by  men,  he  might  have  pressed 
to  his  end  with  little  remorse.  But  he  found  there 
only  two  helpless  loyal  women  ;  and  I  say  again 
that  from  the  first  hour  of  his  entrance  he  sickened 
at  the  work  which  he  had  in  hand,  the  work  which 
ill-fortune  had  laid  upon  him.  Still  he  pursued  it. 
He  had  given  his  word  ;  and  if  there  was  one 
tradition  of  his  race  which  this  man  had  never 
broken,  it  was  that  of  fidelity  to  his  side — to  the 
man  who  paid  him.     But  he  pursued  it  with  only 


j2o  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

half  his  mind,  in  great  misery,  if  you  will  believe 
me ;  sometimes  in  agonies  of  shame.  Gradually, 
however,  almost  against  his  will,  the  drama  worked 
itself  out  before  him,  until  he  needed  only  one 
thing.' 

I  looked  at  Mademoiselle,  trembling.  But  her 
nead  was  averted  :  I  could  gather  nothing  from  the 
outlines  of  her  form  ;  and  I  went  on. 

'  Do  not  misunderstand  me,'  I  said  in  a  lower 
voice.  *  Do  not  misunderstand  what  I  am  going  to 
say  next.  This  is  no  love-story  ;  and  can  have  no 
ending  such  as  romancers  love  to  set  to  their  tales. 
But  I  am  bound  to  mention,  Mademoiselle,  that  this 
man  who  had  lived  almost  all  his  life  about  inns 
and  eating-houses  and  at  the  gaming-tables  met 
here  for  the  first  time  for  years  a  good  woman,  and 
learned  by  the  light  of  her  loyalty  and  devotion  to 
see  what  his  life  had  been,  and  what  was  the  real 
nature  of  the  work  he  was  doing.  I  think — nay,  I 
know,'  I  continued,  '  that  it  added  a  hundredfold  to 
his  misery  that  when  he  learned  at  last  the  secret 
he  had  come  to  surprise,  he  learned  it  from  her 
lips,  and  in  such  a  way  that,  had  he  felt  no  shame, 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  321 

hell  could  have  been  no  place  for  him.  But  in  one 
thing  I  hope  she  misjudged  him.  She  thought,  and 
had  reason  to  think,  that  the  moment  he  knew  her 
secret  he  went  out,  not  even  closing  the  door,  and 
used  it.  But  the  truth  was  that  while  her  words 
were  still  in  his  ears  news  came  to  him  that  others 
had  the  secret ;  and  had  he  not  gone  out  on  the 
instant  and  done  what  he  did,  and  forestalled  them, 
M.  de  Cocheforet  would  have  been  taken,  but  by 
others.'  ^ 

Mademoiselle  broke  her  long  silence  so  suddenly 
that  her  horse  sprang  forward. 

'  Would  to  Heaven  he  had  ! '  she  wailed. 
'  Been  taken  by  others  ? '   I   exclaimed,  startled 
out  of  my  false  composure.' 

'  Oh  yes,  yes  1  *  she  answered  with  a  passionate 
gesture.  '  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  ?  Why  did 
you  not  confess  to  me,  sir,  even  at  the  last 
moment  ?  I —  But,  no  more !  No  more ! '  she 
continued  in  a  piteous  voice ;  and  she  tried  to 
urge  her  horse  forward.  '  I  have  heard  enough. 
You  are  racking  my  heart,  M.  de  Berault.  Some  day 
I  will  ask  God  to  give  me  strength  to  forgive  you.' 


322  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  But  you  have  not  heard  me  out,'  I  said. 

•  I  will  hear  no  more/  she  answered  in  a  voice 
she  vainly  strove  to  render  steady.  '  To  what  end  ? 
Can  I  say  more  than  I  have  said  ?  Or  did 
you  think  that  I  could  forgive  you  now — with 
him  behind  us  going  to  his  death  ?  Oh,  no, 
no  ! '  she  continued.  '  Leave  me  !  I  implore  you 
to  leave  me,  sir.     I  am  not  well' 

She  drooped  over  her  horse's  neck  as  she 
spoke,  and  began  to  weep  so  passionately  that 
the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks  under  her  mask, 
and  fell  and  sparkled  like  dew  on  the  mane ; 
while  her  sobs  shook  her  so  that  I  thought  she 
must  fall.  I  stretched  out  my  hand  instinctively 
to  give  her  help,  but  she  shrank  from  me.  '  No  ! ' 
she  gasped,  between  her  sobs.  '  Do  not  touch 
me.     There  is  too  much  between  us.' 

'Yet  there  must  be  one  thing  more  between 
us,'  I  answered  firmly.  'You  must  listen  to  me 
a  little  longer  whether  you  will  or  no,  Made- 
moiselle :  for  the  love  you  bear  to  your  brother. 
There  is  one  course  still  open  to  me  by  which  I 
may   redeem    my   honour  ;   and    it    has   been    in 


AT  THE  FINGER-rOST  323 

my  mind  for  some  time  back  to  take  that  course. 
To-day,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  I  can  take  it 
cheerfully,  if  not  without  regret ;  with  a  steadfast 
heart,  if  no  light  one.  Mademoiselle,'  I  continued 
earnestly,  feeling  none  of  the  triumph,  none  of 
the  vanity,  none  of  the  elation  I  had  foreseen, 
but  only  simple  joy  in  the  joy  I  could  give  her, 
'  I  thank  God  that  it  is  still  in  my  power  to 
undo  what  I  have  done :  that  it  is  still  in  my 
power  to  go  back  to  him  who  sent  me,  and  telling 
him  that  I  have  changed  my  mind,  and  will  bear 
my  own  burdens,  to  pay  the  penalty.' 

We  were  v/ithin  a  hundred  paces  of  the  top 
and  the  finger-post.  She  cried  out  wildly  that 
she  did  not  understand.  '  What  is  it  you — you 
— have  just  said  ? '  she  murmured.  '  I  cannot 
hear.'  And  she  began  to  fumble  with  the  ribbon 
of  her  mask. 

'  Only  this.  Mademoiselle,'  I  answered  gently. 
'  I  give  your  brother  back  his  word,  his  parole. 
From  this  moment  he  is  free  to  go  whither  he 
pleases.  Here,  where  we  stand,  four  roads  meet 
That  to  the  right  goes  to  Montauban,  where  you 


324  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

have  doubtless  friends,  and  can  lie  hid  for  a  time. 
Or  that  to  the  left  leads  to  Bordeaux,  where  you 
can  take  ship  if  you  please.  And  in  a  word, 
Mademoiselle,'  I  continued,  ending  a  little  feebly, 
'  I  hope  that  your  troubles  are  now  over.' 

She  turned  her  face  to  me — we  had  both  come 
to  a  standstill — and  plucked  at  the  fastenings  of 
her  mask.  But  her  trembling  fingers  had  knotted 
the  string,  and  in  a  moment  she  dropped  her 
hand  with  a  cry  of  despair.  *  But  you  ?  You  ? ' 
she  wailed  in  a  voice  so  changed  that  I  should 
not  have  known  it  for  hers.  '  What  will  you 
do?     I  do  not  understand,  Monsieur.' 

'  There  is  a  third  road,'  I  answered.  '  It  leads 
to  Paris.  That  is  my  road,  Mademoiselle.  We 
part  here.' 

'  But  why  ? '  she  cried  wildly. 

'Because  from  to-day  I  would  fain  begin  to 
be  honourable,'  I  answered  in  a  low  voice. 
'  Because  I  dare  not  be  generous  at  another's 
cost.     I   must  go  back  whence  I   came.' 

*  To  the  Chatclct  ? '  she  muttered. 

'Yes,  Mademoiselle,  to  the  Chatelct' 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST  325 

She  tried  feverishly  to  raise  her  mask  with  her 
hand. 

'  I  am  not  well,'  she  stammered.  *  I  cannot 
breathe.' 

And  she  began  to  sway  so  violently  in  her 
saddle  that  I  sprang  down,  and,  running  round 
her  horse's  head,  was  just  in  time  to  catch  her 
as  she  fell.  She  was  not  quite  unconscious  then, 
for  as  I  supported  her,  she  cried  out, — 

'  Do  not  touch  me  !  Do  not  touch  me  !  You 
kill  me  with  shame ! ' 

But  as  she  spoke  she  clung  to  me ;  and  I  made 
no  mistake.  Those  words  made  me  happy.  I 
carried  her  to  the  bank,  my  heart  on  fire, 
and  laid  her  against  it  just  as  M.  de  Coche- 
foret  rode  up.  He  sprang  from  his  horse,  his 
eyes  blazing.  '  What  is  this  ? '  he  cried.  '  What 
have  you  been  saying  to  her,  man  ? ' 

'  She  will  tell  you,'  I  answered  drily,  my  com- 
posure returning  under  his  eye.  •  Amongst  other 
things,  that  you  are  free.  From  this  moment 
M.  de  Cocheforet,  I  give  you  back  your  parole, 
and  I  take  my  own  honour.     Farewell.' 


326  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

He  cried  out  something  as  I  mounted,  but  I 
did  not  stay  to  heed  or  answer.  I  dashed  the 
spurs  into  my  horse,  and  rode  away  past  the 
cross-roads,  past  the  finger-post ;  away  with  the 
level  upland  stretching  before  me,  dry,  bare, 
almost  treeless ;  and  behind  me,  all  I  loved. 
Once,  when  I  had  gone  a  hundred  yards,  I  looked 
back  and  saw  him  standing  upright  against  the 
sky,  staring  after  me  across  her  body.  And 
again  a  minute  later  I  looked  back.  This  time 
saw  only  the  slender  wooden  cross,  and  below 
it  a  dark  blurred  mass. 


Staring  after  me  across  her  Body. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

ST     MARTI  N'S     eve 

T  T  was  late  evening  on  the  twenty-ninth  of 
November  when  I  rode  into  Paris  through 
the  Orleans  gate.  The  wind  was  in  the  north- 
east, and  a  great  cloud  of  vapour  hung  in  the  eye 
of  an  angry  sunset.  The  air  seemed  to  be  heavy 
with  smoke,  the  kennels  reeked,  my  gorge  rose  at 
the  city's  smell ;  and  with  all  my  heart  I  envied  the 
man  who  had  gone  out  of  it  by  the  same  gate  nearly 
two  months  before,  with  his  face  to  the  south  and 
the  prospect  of  riding  day  after  day  and  league  after 
league  across  heath  and  moor  and  pasture.  At  least 
he  had  had  some  weeks  of  life  before  him,  and  free- 
dom and  the  open  air,  and  hope  and  uncertainty ; 
while  I  came  back  under  doom,  and  in  the  pall  of 
smoke  that  hung  over  the  huddle  of  innumerable 

roofs  saw  a  gloomy  shadowing  of  my  own  fate. 

327 


328  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

For  make  no  mistake.  A  man  in  middle  life 
does  not  strip  himself  of  the  worldly  habit  with 
which  experience  has  clothed  him,  does  not  run 
counter  to  all  the  hard  saws  and  instances  by 
which  he  has  governed  his  course  so  long,  without 
shiverings  and  doubts  and  horrible  misgivings,  and 
struggles  of  heart.  At  least  a  dozen  times  between 
the  Loire  and  Paris  I  asked  myself  what  honour 
was,  and  what  good  it  could  do  me  when  I  lay 
rotting  and  forgotten  ;  if  I  were  not  a  fool  follow- 
ing a  Jack  o'  Lanthorn  ;  and  whether,  of  all  the 
men  in  the  world,  the  relentless  man  to  whom  I 
was  returning  would  not  be  the  first  to  gibe  at  my 
folly  ? 

However,  shame  kept  me  straight;  shame  and 
the  memory  of  Mademoiselle's  looks  and  words. 
I  dared  not  be  false  to  her  again  ;  I  could  not, 
after  speaking  so  loftily,  fall  so  low.  And  there- 
fore— though  not  without  many  a  secret  struggle 
and  quaking — I  came,  on  the  last  evening  but  one 
of  November,  to  the  Orleans  gate,  and  rode  slowly 
and  sadly  through  the  streets  by  the  Luxembourg 
on  my  way  to  the  Pont  au  Change. 


ST  MARTIN'S  EVE  329 

The  struggle  had  sapped  my  last  strength,  how- 
ever ;  and  with  the  first  whiff  of  the  gutters,  the 
first  rush  of  barefooted  gamins  under  my  horse's 
hoofs,  the  first  babel  of  street  cries  —  the  first 
breath,  in  a  word,  of  Paris  —  there  came  a  new 
temptation  ;  to  go  for  one  last  night  to  Zaton's,  to 
see  the  tables  again  and  the  faces  of  surprise,  to  be 
for  an  hour  or  two  the  old  Berault.  That  would 
be  no  breach  of  honour,  for  in  any  case  I  could  not 
reach  the  Cardinal  before  to-morrow.  And  it 
could  do  no  harm.  It  could  make  no  change  in 
anything.  It  would  not  have  been  a  thing  worth 
struggling  about,  indeed  ;  only — only  I  had  in  my 
inmost  heart  a  suspicion  that  the  stoutest  resolu- 
tions might  lose  their  force  in  that  atmosphere; 
and  that  there  even  such  a  talisman  as  the 
memory  of  a  woman's  looks  and  words  might 
lose  its  virtue. 

Still,  I  think  that  I  should  have  succumbed  in  the 
end  if  I  had  not  received  at  the  corner  of  the 
Luxembourg  a  shock  which  sobered  me  effectu- 
ally. As  I  passed  the  gates,  a  coach,  followed  by 
two  outriders,  swept  out  of  the  Palace  courtyard ; 


330  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

it  was  going  at  a  great  pace,  and  I  reined  my 
jaded  horse  on  one  side  to  give  it  room.  By 
chance  as  it  whirled  by  me,  one  of  the  leather 
curtains  flapped  back,  and  I  saw  for  a  second  by 
the  waning  light — the  nearer  wheels  were  no  more 
than  two  feet  from  my  boot — a  face  inside. 

A  face  and  no  more,  and  that  only  for  a  second. 
But  it  froze  me.  It  was  Richelieu's,  the  Cardi- 
nal's ;  but  not  as  I  had  been  wont  to  see  it — keen, 
cold,  acute,  with  intellect  and  indomitable  will  in 
every  feature.  This  face  was  contorted  with  the 
rage  of  impatience,  was  grim  with  the  fever  of  haste, 
and  the  fear  of  death.  The  eyes  burned  under  the 
pale  brow,  the  moustache  bristled,  the  teeth 
showed  through  the  beard  ;  I  could  fancy  the  man 
crying  '  Faster !  Faster ! '  and  gnawing  his  nails  in 
the  impotence  of  passion ;  and  I  shrank  back  as  if 
I  had  been  struck.  The  next  moment  the  out- 
riders splashed  me,  the  coach  was  a  hundred  paces 
ahead,  and  I  was  left  chilled  and  wondering,  fore- 
seeing the  worst,  and  no  longer  in  any  mood  for 
Zaton's. 

Such  a  revelation  of  such  a  man  was  enough  to 


ST  MARTIN'S  EVE  331 

appal  me,  for  a  moment  conscience  cried  out 
that  he  must  have  heard  that  Cocheforet  had 
escaped  him,  and  through  me.  But  I  dismissed 
the  idea  as  soon  as  formed.  In  the  vast  meshes  of 
the  Cardinal's  schemes  Cocheforet  could  be  only  a 
small  fish  ;  and  to  account  for  the  face  in  the  coach 
I  needed  a  cataclysm,  a  catastrophe,  a  misfortune 
as  far  above  ordinary  mishaps  as  this  man's  intel- 
lect rose  above  the  common  run  of  minds. 

It  was  almost  dark  when  I  crossed  the  bridges, 
and  crept  despondently  to  the  Rue  Savonnerie 
After  stabling  my  horse  I  took  my  bag  and 
holsters,  and  climbing  the  stairs  to  my  old  land- 
lord's —  I  remember  that  the  place  had  grown, 
as  it  seemed  to  me,  strangely  mean  and  small 
and  ill-smelling  in  my  absence  —  I  knocked  at 
the  door.  It  was  promptly  opened  by  the  little 
tailor  himself,  who  threw  up  his  arms  and  opened 
his  eyes  at  sight  of  me. 

'  By  Saint  Genevieve ! '  he  said,  '  if  it  is  not  M. 
de  Berault!' 

'  It   is,'    I    said.     It   touched   me   a   little,   after 
my   lonely  journey,  to  find  him  so   glad   to   see 


332  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

me ;  though  I  had  never  done  him  a  greater 
benefit  than  sometimes  to  unbend  with  him  and 
borrow  his  money.  'You  look  surprised,  little 
man ! '  I  continued,  as  he  made  way  for  me  to 
enter.  '  I'll  be  sworn  that  you  have  been  pawning 
my  goods  and  letting  my  room,  you  knave ! ' 

'  Never,  your  Excellency  ! '  he  answered.  '  On 
the  contrary,  I  have  been  expecting  you.' 

'  How  ? '  I  said.     '  To-day  ? ' 

'To-day  or  to-morrow,'  he  answered,  following 
me  in  and  closing  the  door.  '  The  first  thing 
I  said  when  I  heard  the  news  this  morning  was 
— now  we  shall  have  M.  de  Berault  back  again. 
Your  Excellency  will  pardon  the  children,'  he 
continued,  bobbing  round  me,  as  I  took  the  old 
seat  on  the  three-legged  stool  before  the  hearth. 
'The  night  is  cold  and  there  is  no  fire  in  your 
room.' 

While  he  ran  to  and  fro  with  my  cloak  and 
bags,  little  Gil,  to  whom  I  had  stood  at  St  Sul- 
pice's,  borrowing  ten  crowns  the  same  day,  I 
remember,  came  shyly  to  play  with  my  sword- 
hilL 


ST  ]SIARTIN'S  EVE  333 

*So  you  expected  me  back  when  you  heard 
the  news,  Frison,  did  you  ? '  I  said,  taking  the 
lad  on  my  knee. 

*To  be  sure,  your  Excellency,'  he  answered, 
peeping  into  the  black  pot  before  he  lifted  it 
to  the  hook. 

'Very  good.  Then  now  let  us  hear  what  the 
news  is,'  I  said  drily. 

'  Of  the  Cardinal,  M.  de  Beraulf 

'  Ah  !     And  what  ? ' 

He  looked  at  me,  holding  the  heavy  pot  sus- 
pended in  his  hands. 

'You  have  not  heard?'  he  exclaimed  in  as- 
tonishment. 

'  Not  a  tittle.     Tell  it  me,  my  good  fellow.' 

'  You  have  not  heard  that  his  Eminence  is 
disgraced  ? ' 

I  stared  at  him.     '  Not  a  word,'  I  said. 

He  set  down  the  pot. 

'  Then  your  Excellency  must  have  made  a  very 
long  journey  indeed,'  he  said  with  conviction. 
'  For  it  has  been  in  the  air  a  week  or  more, 
and    I   thought   that    it   had    brought   you    back 


354  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

A  week  ?  A  month,  I  dare  say.  They  whisper 
that  it  is  the  old  Queen's  doing.  At  any  rate, 
it  is  certain  that  they  have  cancelled  his  com- 
missions and  displaced  his  officers.  There  are 
rumours  of  immediate  peace  with  Spain.  Every- 
where his  enemies  are  lifting  up  their  heads ; 
and  I  hear  that  he  has  relays  of  horses  set  all 
the  way  to  the  coast  that  he  may  fly  at  any 
moment.  For  what  I  know  he  may  be  gone 
already.' 

'  But,  man — '  I  said,  surprised  out  of  my  com- 
posure. '  The  King !  You  forget  the  King. 
Let  the  Cardinal  once  pipe  to  him  and  he  will 
dance.  And  they  will  dance  too!'  I  added 
grimly. 

'Yes,'  Frison  answered  eagerly.  'True,  your 
Excellency,  but  the  King  will  not  see  him. 
Three  times  to-day,  as  I  am  told,  the  Cardinal 
has  driven  to  the  Luxembourg  and  stood  like 
any  common  man  in  the  ante-chamber,  so  that 
I  hear  it  was  pitiful  to  see  him.  But  his  Ma- 
jesty would  not  admit  him.  And  when  he  went 
away  the  last   time  I  am  told  that  his  face  was 


ST  MARTIN'S  EVE  335 

like  death !  Well,  he  was  a  great  man,  and 
we  may  be  worse  ruled,  M.  de  Berault,  saving 
your  presence.  If  the  nobles  did  not  like  him, 
he  was  good  to  the  traders  and  the  bourgeoisie, 
and  equal  to  all.' 

*  Silence,  man !  Silence,  and  let  me  think,'  I 
said,  much  excited.  And  while  he  bustled  to 
and  fro,  getting  my  supper,  and  the  firelight 
played  about  the  snug,  sorry  little  room,  and 
the  child  toyed  with  his  plaything,  I  fell  to 
digesting  this  great  news,  and  pondering  how 
I  stood  now  and  what  I  ought  to  do.  At  first 
sight,  I  know,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  nothing 
to  do  but  to  sit  still.  In  a  few  hours  the 
man  who  had  taken  my  bond  would  be  power- 
less, and  I  should  be  free ;  in  a  few  hours  I 
might  smile  at  him.  To  all  appearance  the 
dice  had  fallen  well  for  me.  I  had  done  a 
great  thing,  run  a  great  risk,  won  a  woman's 
love ;  and,  after  all,  I  was  not  to  pay  the 
penalty. 

But  a  word  which  fell  from  Frison  as  he  fluttered 
round  me,  pouring  out  the  broth  and  cutting  the 


336  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

bread,  dropped  into  my  mind  and  spoiled  my 
satisfaction. 

'Yes,  your  Excellency,' he  said,  confirming  some- 
thing he  had  stated  before  and  which  I  had  missed, 
'  and  I  am  told  that  the  last  time  he  came  into  the 
gallery  there  was  not  a  man  of  all  the  scores  who 
had  been  at  his  levee  last  Monday  would  speak  to 
him.  They  fell  off  like  rats — ^just  like  rats — until 
he  was  left  standing  alone.  And  I  have  seen 
him  1 ' — Prison  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  his  hands  and 
drew  in  his  breath — '  Ah  I  I  have  seen  the  King 
look  shabby  beside  him  !  And  his  eye  !  I  would 
not  like  to  meet  it  now.' 

'  Pish  ! '  I  growled.  *  Someone  has  fooled  you. 
Men  are  wiser  than  that.' 

'  So  ?  Well,  your  Excellency  understands,'  he 
answered  meekly.  *  But — there  are  no  cats  on  a 
cold  hearth.' 

I  told  him  again  that  he  was  a  fool.  But  for  all 
that,  and  my  reasoning,  I  felt  uncomfortable.  This 
was  a  great  man,  if  ever  a  great  man  lived,  and 
they  were  all  leaving  him ;  and  I — well,  I  had  no 
cause  to  love  him.      But  I  had  taken  his  money, 


ST  MARTIN'S  EVE  337 

I  had  accepted  his  commission,  and  I  had  betrayed 
him.  These  three  things  being  so,  if  he  fell  before 
I  could — with  the  best  will  in  the  world — set  my- 
self right  with  him,  so  much  the  better  for  me. 
That  was  my  gain — the  fortune  of  war,  the  turn  of 
the  dice.  But  if  I  lay  hid,  and  took  time  for  my 
ally,  and  being  here  while  he  still  stood,  though 
tottering,  waited  until  he  fell,  what  of  my  honour 
then?  What  of  the  grand  words  I  had  said  to 
Mademoiselle  at  Agen  ?  I  should  be  like  the  re- 
creant in  the  old  romance,  who,  lying  in  the  ditch 
while  the  battle  raged,  came  out  afterwards  and 
boasted  of  his  courage. 

And  yet  the  flesh  was  weak.  A  day,  twenty- 
four  hours,  two  days,  might  make  the  difference 
between  life  and  death,  love  and  death ;  and  I 
wavered.  But  at  last  I  settled  what  I  would  do. 
At  noon  the  next  day,  the  time  at  which  I  should 
have  presented  myself  if  I  had  not  heard  this 
news,  at  that  time  I  would  still  present  myself. 
Not  earlier;  I  owed  myself  the  chance.  Not 
later;  that  was  due  to  him. 

Having  so  settled  it,  I  thought  to  rest  in  peace. 


338  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

But  with  the  first  Hght  I  was  awake,  and  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  keep  myself  quiet  until  I  heard 
Prison  stirring.  I  called  to  him  then  to  know  if 
there  was  any  news,  and  lay  waiting  and  listening 
while  he  went  down  to  the  street  to  learn.  It 
seemed  an  endless  time  before  he  came  back ;  an 
age,  when  he  came  back,  before  he  spoke. 

'  Well,  he  has  not  set  off  ? '  I  asked  at  last,  unable 
to  control  my  eagerness. 

Of  course  he  had  not ;  and  at  nine  o'clock  I  sent 
Frison  out  again  ;  and  at  ten  and  eleven — always 
with  the  same  result.  I  was  like  a  man  waiting 
and  looking  and,  above  all,  listening  for  a  reprieve ; 
and  as  sick  as  any  craven.  But  when  he  came 
back,  at  eleven,  I  gave  up  hope  and  dressed  myself 
carefully.  I  suppose  I  had  an  odd  look  then,  how- 
ever, for  Frison  stopped  me  at  the  door,  and  asked 
me,  with  evident  alarm,  where  I  was  going. 

I  put  the  little  man  aside  gently. 

'  To  the  tables,'  I  said, '  to  make  a  big  throw,  my 
friend.' 

It  was  a  fine  morning,  sunny,  keen,  pleasant, 
when  I  went  out  into  the  street  ;   but  I  scarcely 


ST  MARTIN'S  EVE  339 

noticed  it.  All  my  thoughts  were  where  I  was  go- 
ing, so  that  it  seemed  but  a  step  from  my  threshold 
to  the  Hotel  Richelieu  ;  I  was  no  sooner  gone  from 
the  one  than  I  found  myself  at  the  other.  Now,  as 
on  a  memorable  evening  when  I  had  crossed  the 
street  in  a  drizzling  rain,  and  looked  that  way  with 
foreboding,  there  were  two  or  three  guards,  in  the 
Cardinal's  livery,  loitering  in  front  of  the  great 
gates.  Coming  nearer,  I  found  the  opposite  pave- 
ment under  the  Louvre  thronged  with  people,  not 
moving  about  their  business,  but  standing  all  silent, 
all  looking  across  furtively,  all  with  the  air  of  per- 
sons who  wished  to  be  thought  passing  by.  Their 
silence  and  their  keen  looks  had  in  some  way  an 
air  of  menace.  Looking  back  after  I  had  turned  in 
towards  the  gates,  I  found  them  devouring  me  with 
their  eyes. 

And  certainly  they  had  little  else  to  look  at.  In 
the  courtyard  where,  some  mornings,  when  the  Court 
was  in  Paris,  I  had  seen  a  score  of  coaches  waiting 
and  thrice  as  many  servants,  were  now  emptiness 
and  sunshine  and  stillness.  The  officer  on  guard, 
twirling  his  moustachios,  looked  at  me  in  wonder 


340  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

as  I  passed  him ;  the  lackeys  lounging  in  the 
portico,  and  all  too  much  taken  up  with  whispering 
to  make  a  pretence  of  being  of  service,  grinned  at 
my  appearance.  But  that  which  happened  when  I 
had  mounted  the  stairs  and  came  to  the  door  of  the 
ante-chamber  outdid  all.  The  man  on  guard  would 
have  opened  the  door,  but  when  I  went  to  enter,  a 
major-domo  who  was  standing  by,  muttering  with 
two  or  three  of  his  kind,  hastened  forward  and 
stopped  me. 

'  Your  business,  Monsieur,  if  you  please  ? '  he  said 
inquisitively ;  while  I  wondered  why  he  and  the 
others  looked  at  me  so  strangely. 

'  I  am  M.  de  Berault,'  I  answered  sharply.  '  I 
have  the  entree.' 

He  bowed  politely  enough. 

'  Yes,  M.  de  Berault,  I  have  the  honour  to  know 
your  face,'  he  said.  '  But — pardon  me.  Have  you 
business  with  his  Eminence? ' 

'  I  have  the  common  business,'  I  answered 
sharply.  '  By  which  many  of  us  live,  sirrah ! 
To  wait  on  him.' 

'But — by  appointment,  Monsieur?' 


ST  MARTIN'S  EVE  341 

'  No,'  I  said,  astonished.  '  It  is  the  usual  hour. 
For  the  matter  of  that,  however,  I  have  business 
with  him.' 

The  man  still  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  in 
seeming  embarrassment.  Then  he  stood  aside 
and  signed  to  the  door-keeper  to  open  the  door.  I 
passed  in,  uncovering ;  with  an  assured  face  and 
steadfast  mien,  ready  to  meet  all  eyes.  In  a 
moment,  on  the  threshold,  the  mystery  was  ex- 
plained. 

The  room  was  empty. 


CHAPTER   XV 

ST  martin's  summer 

'^/'ES,  at   the  great  Cardinal's  lev6e  I  was  the 

only  client !  I  stared  round  the  room,  a  long, 

narrow  gallery,  through  which  it  was  his  custom 

to  walk   every  morning,  after  receiving  his  more 

important  visitors.     I   stared,    I  say,  from  side  to 

side,  in  a  state  of  stupefaction.     The  seats  against 

either  wall  were  empty,  the  recesses  of  the  windows 

empty  too.     The  hat  sculptured  and  painted  here 

and  there,  the  staring  R,  the  blazoned  arms  looked 

down  on  a  vacant  floor.     Only  on  a  little  stool  by 

the  farther  door,  sat  a  quiet-faced  man  in  black, 

who  read,  or  pretended  to  read,  in  a  little  book,  and 

never  looked  up.     One  of  those  men,  blind,  deaf, 

secretive,  who  fatten  in  the  shadow  of  the  great. 

Suddenly,  while  I  stood  confounded  and  full  of 

shamed  thought — for  I  had  seen  the  antechamber 

of  Richelieu's  old  hotel  so  crowded  that  he  could 

342 


ST  MARTIN'S  SUMMER  343 

not  walk  through  it — this  man  closed  his  book,  rose 
and  came  noiselessly  towards  me. 

'  M.  de  Berault  ? '  he  said. 

'Yes/  I  answered. 

'  His  Eminence  awaits  you.  Be  good  enough  to 
follow  me.' 

I  did  so,  in  a  deeper  stupor  than  before.  For 
how  could  the  Cardinal  know  that  I  was  here? 
How  could  he  have  known  when  he  gave  the 
order?  But  I  had  short  time  to  think  of  these 
things,  or  others.  We  passed  through  two  rooms, 
in  one  of  which  some  secretaries  were  writing,  we 
stopped  at  a  third  door.  Over  all  brooded  a  silence 
which  could  be  felt.  The  usher  knocked,  opened, 
and,  with  his  finger  on  his  lip,  pushed  aside  a 
curtain  and  signed  to  me  to  enter.  I  did  so  and 
found  myself  behind  a  screen. 

'  Is  that  M.  de  Berault  ? '  asked  a  thin,  high- 
pitched  voice. 

*  Yes,  Monseigneur,'  I  answered  trembling. 

*  Then  come,  my  friend,  and  talk  to  me.' 

I  went  round  the  screen,  and  I  know  not  how  it 
was,  the  watching  crowd  outside,  the  vacant  ante- 


344  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

chamber  in  which  I  had  stood,  the  stillness  and 
silence  all  seemed  to  be  concentrated  here,  and  to 
give  to  the  man  I  saw  before  me  a  dignity  which 
he  had  never  possessed  for  me  when  the  world 
passed  through  his  doors,  and  the  proudest  fawned 
on  him  for  a  smile.  He  sat  in  a  great  chair  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  hearth,  a  little  red  skull-cap  on 
his  head,  his  fine  hands  lying  still  in  his  lap.  The 
collar  of  lawn  which  fell  over  his  cape  was  quite 
plain,  but  the  skirts  of  his  red  robe  were  covered 
with  rich  lace,  and  the  order  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  a 
white  dove  on  a  gold  cross,  shone  on  his  breast. 
Among  the  multitudinous  papers  on  the  great  table 
near  him  I  saw  a  sword  and  pistols  ;  and  some 
tapestry  that  covered  a  little  table  behind  him 
failed  to  hide  a  pair  of  spurred  riding-boots.  But 
as  I  advanced  he  looked  towards  me  with  the 
utmost  composure;  with  a  face  mild  and  almost 
benign,  in  which  I  strove  in  vain  to  read  the  traces 
of  last  night's  passion.  So  that  it  flashed  across 
me  that  if  this  man  really  stood  (and  afterwards  I 
knew  that  he  did)  on  the  thin  razor-edge  between 
life   and   death,   between    the  supreme  of  earthly 


ST  MARTIN'S  SUMMER  345 

power,  lord  of  France  and  arbiter  of  Europe,  and 
the  nothingness  of  the  clod,  he  justified  his  fame. 
He  gave  weaker  natures  no  room  for  triumph. 

The  thought  was  no  sooner  entertained  than  it 
was  gone. 

'  And  so  you  are  back  at  last,  M.  de  Berault,'  he 
said  gently.  '  I  have  been  expecting  to  see  you 
since  nine  this  morning.' 

*  Your  Eminence  knew,  then — '  I  muttered. 

'  That  you  returned  to  Paris  by  the  Orleans  gate 
last  evening  alone  ? '  he  answered,  fitting  together 
the  ends  of  his  fingers,  and  looking  at  me  over  them 
with  inscrutable  eyes.  '  Yes,  I  knew  all  that  last 
night.  And  now,  of  your  business.  You  have  been 
faithful  and  diligent,  I  am  sure.     Where  is  he  ?  * 

I  stared  at  him  and  was  dumb.  In  some  way 
the  strange  things  I  had  seen  since  I  had  left  my 
lodgings,  the  surprises  I  had  found  awaiting  me 
here,  had  driven  my  own  fortunes,  my  own  peril, 
out  of  my  head — until  this  moment.  Now,  at  this 
question,  all  returned  with  a  rush,  and  I  re- 
membered where  I  stood.  My  heart  heaved 
suddenly  in  my  breast.     I  strove  for  a  savour  of 


346  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

the  old  hardihood,  but  for  the  moment   I   could 
not  find  a  word. 

'Well,'  he  said  lightly,  a  faint  smile  lifting  his 
moustache.  '  You  do  not  speak.  You  left  Auch 
with  him  on  the  twenty-fourth,  M.  de  Berault. 
So  much  I  know.  And  you  reached  Paris  without 
him  last  night.     He  has  not  given  you  the  slip  ? ' 

'  No,  Monseigneur,'  I  muttered. 

'Ha!  that  is  good,'  he  answered,  sinking  back 
again  in  his  chair.  '  For  the  moment — but  I  knew 
that  I  could  depend  on  you.  And  now  where 
is  he?  What  have  you  done  with  him?  He 
knows  much,  and  the  sooner  I  know  it  the  better. 
Are  your  people  bringing  him,  M.  de  Berault  ? ' 

'  No,  Monseigneur,'  I  stammered,  with  dry  lips. 
His  very  good-humour,  his  benignity,  appalled  me. 
I  knew  how  terrible  would  be  the  change,  how 
fearful  his  rage,  when  I  should  tell  him  the  truth. 
And  yet  that  I,  Gil  de  Berault,  should  tremble 
before  any  man !  With  that  thought  I  spurred 
myself,  as  it  were,  to  the  task.  '  No,  your  Emin- 
ence,' I  said,  with  the  energy  of  despair.  *  I  have 
not  brought  him,  because  I  have  set  him  free.' 


ST  MARTIN'S  SUMMER  347 

*  Because  you  have — zu/miP'he  exclaimed.  He 
leaned  forward  as  he  spoke,  his  hands  on  the  arm 
of  the  chair ;  and  his  eyes  growing  each  instant 
smaller,  seemed  to  read  my  soul. 

'  Because  I  have  let  him  go,'  I  repeated. 
'  And  why  ? '  he  said,  in  a  voice  like  the  rasp- 
ing of  a  file. 

*  Because  I  took  him  unfairly,'  I  answered. 
'Because,  Monseigneur,  I  am  a  gentleman,  and 
this  task  should  have  been  given  to  one  who  was 
not.  I  took  him,  if  you  must  know,'  I  continued 
impatiently — the  fence  once  crossed  I  was  growing 
bolder — '  by  dogging  a  woman's  steps  and  winning 
her  confidence  and  betraying  it.  And  whatever  I 
have  done  ill  in  my  life — of  which  you  were  good 
enough  to  throw  something  in  my  teeth  when  I  was 
last  here — I  have  never  done  that,  and  I  will  not ! ' 

'  And  so  you  set  him  free  } ' 
'Yes.' 

'  After  you  had  brought  him  to  Auch  ? ' 
'  Yes.' 

'And,  in  point  of  fact,  saved  him  from  falling 
into   the   hands   of  the   Commandant  at  Auch?' 


348  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  Yes,'  I  answered  desperately  to  all. 

*  Then,  what  of  the  trust  I  placed  in  you,  sirrah  ? ' 
he  rejoined,  in  a  terrible  voice ;  and  stooping  still 
farther  forward  he  probed  me  with  his  eyes.  *  You 
who  prate  of  trust  and  confidence,  who  received 
your  life  on  parole,  and  but  for  your  promise  to 
me  would  have  been  carrion  this  month  past, 
answer  me  that  ?  What  of  the  trust  I  placed  in 
you  ? ' 

'The  answer  is  simple,'  I  said,  shrugging  my 
shoulders  with  a  touch  of  my  old  self  '  I  am  here 
to  pay  the  penalty.' 

*  And  do  you  think  that  I  do  not  know  why  ? ' 
he  retorted,  striking  one  hand  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair  with  a  force  that  startled  me.  '  Because  you 
have  heard,  sir,  that  my  power  is  gone !  Because 
you  have  heard  that  I,  who  was  yesterday  the 
King's  right  hand,  am  to-day  dried  up,  withered 
and  paralysed!  Because  you  have  heard  —  but 
have  a  care  !  have  a  care  ! '  he  continued  with  ex- 
traordinary vehemence,  and  in  a  voice  like  a  dog's 
snarl.  *  You  and  those  others !  Have  a  care,  I 
say,  or  you  may  find  j'ourselves  mistaken  yet.* 


ST  MARTIN'S  SUMMER  349 

'  As  Heaven  shall  judge  me,'  I  answered  solemnly 
'  that  is  not  true.  Until  I  reached  Paris  last  night 
I  knew  nothing  of  this  report  I  came  here  with  a 
single  mind,  to  redeem  my  honour  by  placing  again 
in  your  Eminence's  hands  that  which  you  gave  me 
on  trust,  and  here  I  do  place  it.' 

For  a  moment  he  remained  in  the  same  attitude, 
staring  at  me  fixedly.  Then  his  face  relaxed  some- 
what 

'Be  good  enough  to  ring  that  bell,'  he 
said. 

It  stood  on  a  table  near  me.  I  rang  it,  and  a 
velvet-footed  man  in  black  came  in,  and  gliding  up 
to  the  Cardinal,  placed  a  paper  in  his  hand.  The 
Cardinal  looked  at  it ;  while  the  man  stood  with 
his  head  obsequiously  bent,  and  my  heart  beat 
furiously. 

'Very  good,'  his  Eminence  said,  after  a  pause 
which  seemed  to  me  to  be  endless.  '  Let  the  doors 
be  thrown  open.' 

The   man  bowed  low,  and   retired   behind  the 

screen.     I  heard  a  little  bell  ring  somewhere  in  the 

silence,  and  in  a  moment  the  Cardinal  stood  up. 

2  A 


3SO  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  Follow  me  ! '  he  said,  with  a  strange  flash  of  his 
keen  eyes. 

Astonished,  I  stood  aside  while  he  passed  to  the 
screen ;  then  I  followed  him.  Outside  the  first 
door,  which  stood  open,  we  found  eight  or  nine 
persons — pages,  a  monk,  the  major-domo,  and 
several  guards  waiting  like  mutes.  These  signed 
to  me  to  precede  them  and  fell  in  behind  us,  and 
in  that  order  we  passed  through  the  first  room  and 
the  second,  where  the  clerks  stood  with  bent  heads 
to  receive  us.  The  last  door,  the  door  of  the  ante- 
chamber, flew  open  as  we  approached,  voices  cried, 
'  Room !  Room  for  his  Eminence ! '  we  passed 
through  two  lines  of  bowing  lackeys,  and  entered 
— an  empty  chamber. 

The  ushers  did  not  know  how  to  look  at  one 
another ;  the  lackeys  trembled  in  their  shoes.  But 
the  Cardinal  walked  on,  apparently  unmoved,  until 
he  had  passed  slowly  half  the  length  of  the  chamber. 
Then  he  turned  himself  about,  looking  first  to  one 
side  and  then  to  the  other,  with  a  low  laugh* of 
derision. 

'  Father,'  he  said   in  his  thin  voice,    '  what  docs 


ST  MARTIN'S  SUMMER  351 

the  Psalmist  say  ?     "I  am  become  like  a  pelican  in 
the  wilderness  and  like  an  owl  that  is  in  the  desert !'" 

The  monk  mumbled  assent. 

•  And  later  in  the  same  psalm,  is  it  not  written, 
"  They  shall  perish,  but  thou  shalt  endure  ? " ' 

'  It  is  so,'  the  father  answered.     '  Amen.' 

'  Doubtless  though,  that  refers  to  another  life,'  the 
Cardinal  said,  with  his  slow  wintry  smile.  *  In  the 
meantime  we  will  go  back  to  our  books,  and  ser\'e 
God  and  the  King  in  small  things  if  not  in  great. 
Come,  father,  this  is  no  longer  a  place  for  us. 
Vanitas  vanitaUmi — omnia  vanitas  !  We  will  retire.' 

And  as  solemnly  as  we  had  come  we  marched 
back  through  the  first  and  second  and  third  doors 
until  we  stood  again  in  the  silence  of  the  Cardinal's 
chamber — he  and  I  and  the  velvet-footed  man  in 
black.  For  a  while  Richelieu  seemed  to  forget  me. 
He  stood  brooding  on  the  hearth,  his  eyes  on  a  small 
fire,  which  burned  there  though  the  weather  was 
warm.  Once  I  heard  him  laugh,  and  twice  he 
uttered  in  a  tone  of  bitter  mockery  the  words, — 

'  Fools  !     Fools  !     '  Fools ! ' 

At  last  he  looked  up,  saw  me,  and  started. 


352  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  Ah ! '  he  said,  *  I  had  forgotten  you.  Well,  yon 
are  fortunate,  M.  de  Berault.  Yesterday  I  had  a 
hundred  clients  ;  to-day  I  have  only  one,  and  I 
cannot  afford  to  hang  him.  But  for  your  liberty — 
that  is  another  matter.' 

I  would  have  said  something,  pleaded  something ; 
but  he  turned  abruptly  to  the  table,  and  sitting 
down  wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  piece  of  paper.  Then 
he  rang  his  bell,  while  I  stood  waiting  and  con- 
founded. 

The  man  in  black  came  from  behind  the  screen. 

'  Take  this  letter  and  that  gentleman  to  the 
upper  guard-room,'  the  Cardinal  said  sharply.  '  I 
can  hear  no  more,'  he  continued,  frowning  and 
raising  his  hand  to  forbid  interruption.  'The 
matter  is  ended,  M.  de  Berault.     Be  thankful.' 

In  a  moment  I  was  outside  the  door,  my  head 
in  a  whirl,  my  heart  divided  between  gratitude 
and  resentment.  I  would  fain  have  stood  to 
consider  my  position  ;  but  I  had  no  time.  Obey- 
ing a  gesture,  I  followed  my  guide  along  several 
passages,  and  everywhere  found  the  same  silence, 
the  same  monastic  stillness.     At  length,  while  I 


ST  MARTIN'S  SUMMER  353 

was  dolefully  considering  whether  the  Bastille  or 
the  Chatelet  would  be  my  fate,  he  stopped  at  a 
door,  thrust  the  letter  into  my  hands,  and  lifting 
the  latch,  signed  to  me  to  enter. 

I  went  in  in  amazement,  and  stopped  in  con- 
fusion. Before  me,  alone,  just  risen  from  a  chair, 
with  her  face  one  moment  pale,  the  next  crimson 
with  blushes,  stood  Mademoiselle  de  Cocheforet. 
I  cried  out  her  name. 

'  M.  de  Berault,'  she  said,  trembling.  '  You  did 
not  expect  to  see  me } ' 

*  I  expected  to  see  no  one  so  little.  Mademoiselle,' 
I  answered,  striving  to  recover  my  composure. 

'Yet  you  might  have  thought  that  we  should 
not  utterly  desert  you,'  she  replied,  with  a  re- 
proachful humility  which  went  to  my  heart.  '  We 
should  have  been  base  indeed,  if  we  had  not  made 
some  attempt  to  save  you.  I  thank  Heaven,  M. 
de  Berault,  that  it  has  so  far  succeeded  that  that 
strange  man  has  promised  me  your  life.  You 
have  seen  him  ? '  she  continued  eagerly  and  in 
another  tone,  while  her  eyes  grew  on  a  sudden 
large  with  fear. 


354  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

'  Yes,  Mademoiselle,'  I  said.  *  I  have  seen  him, 
and  it  is  true.     He  has  given  me  my  life.' 

'And—?' 

'  And  sent  me  into  imprisonment.' 

'  For  how  long  ? '  she  whispered. 

'  I  do  not  know,'  I  answered.  '  I  fear  during  the 
King's  pleasure.' 

She  shuddered. 

'I  may  have  done  more  harm  than  good,'  she  mur- 
mured, looking  at  me  piteously.  '  But  I  did  it  for 
the  best.     I  told  him  all,  and  perhaps  I  did  harm.' 

But  to  hear  her  accuse  herself  thus,  when  she 
had  made  this  long  and  lonely  journey  to  save  me, 
when  she  had  forced  herself  into  her  enemy's 
presence,  and  had,  as  I  was  sure  she  had,  abased 
herself  for  me,  was  more  than  I  could  bear. 

'  Hush,  Mademoiselle,  hush ! '  I  said,  almost 
roughly.  '  You  hurt  me.  You  have  made  me 
happy ;  and  yet  I  wish  that  you  were  not  here, 
where,  I  fear,  you  have  few  friends,  but  back  at 
Cocheforet.  You  have  done  more  for  me  than  I 
expected,  and  a  hundred  times  more  than  I 
deserved.     But  it  must  end  here.     I  was  a  ruined 


ST  MARTIN'S  SUMMER  355 

man  before  this  happened,  before  I  ever  saw  you. 
I  am  no  worse  now,  but  I  am  still  that;  and  I 
would  not  have  your  name  pinned  to  mine  on 
Paris  lips.  Therefore,  good-bye.  God  forbid  I 
should  say  more  to  you,  or  let  you  stay  where  foul 
tongues  would  soon  malign  you.' 

She  looked  at  me  in  a  kind  of  wonder ;  then, 
with  a  growing  smile, — 

'  It  is  too  late/  she  said  gently. 

'  Too  late  ? '  I  exclaimed.  '  How,  Mademoi- 
selle ? ' 

*  Because — do  you  remember,  M.  de  Berault, 
what  you  told  me  of  your  love-story  under  the 
guide-post  by  Agen  ?  That  it  could  have  no 
happy  ending?  For  the  same  reason  I  was  not 
ashamed  to  tell  mine  to  the  Cardinal.  By  this 
time  it  is  common  property.' 

I  looked  at  her  as  she  stood  facing  me.  Her 
eyes  shone  under  the  lashes  that  almost  hid  them. 
Her  figure  drooped,  and  yet  a  smile  trembled  on 
her  lips. 

'  W/iat  did  you  tell  him,  Mademoiselle?'  I 
whispered,  my  breath  coming  quickly. 


356  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 

*  That  I  loved/  she  answered  boldly,  raising  her 
clear  eyes  to  mine.  'And  therefore  that  I  was 
not  ashamed  to  beg — even  on  my  knees.' 

I  fell  on  mine,  and  caught  her  hand  before  the 
last  word  passed  her  lips.  For  the  moment  I 
forgot  King  and  Cardinal,  prison  and  the  future, 
all ;  all  except  that  this  woman,  so  pure  and  so 
beautiful,  so  far  above  me  in  all  things,  loved  me. 
For  the  moment,  I  say.  Then  I  remembered 
myself  I  stood  up,  and  stood  back  from  her  in  a 
sudden  revulsion  of  feeling. 

'  You  do  not  know  me  ! '  I  cried.  *  You  do  not 
know  what  I  have  done ! ' 

*  That  is  what  I  do  know,'  she  answered,  looking 
at  me  with  a  wondrous  smile. 

'  Ah  !  but  you  do  not ! '  I  cried.  *  And  besides, 
there  is  this — this  between  us.'  And  I  picked  up 
the  Cardinal's  letter.     It  had  fallen  on  the  floor. 

She  turned  a  shade  paler.  Then  she  cried 
quickly, — 

'Open  it !  open  it !     It  is  not  sealed  nor  closed.' 

I  obeyed  mechanically,  dreading  with  a  horrible 
dread  what  I  might  see.    Even  when  I  had  it  open 


ST  MARTIN'S  SUMMER  357 

I  looked  at  the  finely  scrawled  characters  with 
eyes  askance.  But  at  last  I  made  it  out.  And  it 
ran  thus  : — 

*  The  Kin^s  pleasure  is  that  M.  Gil  de  Berault, 
having  mixed  himself  up  with  affairs  of  state,  retire 
forthwith  to  the  demesne  of  Cocheforet,  and  confine 
himself  within  its  limits  until  the  King's  pleasure 
be  further  known. 

•The  Cardinal  de  Richelieu.' 

We  were  married  next  day,  and  a  fortnight 
later  were  at  Cocheforet,  in  the  brown  woods  under 
the  southern  mountains  ;  while  the  great  Cardinal, 
once  more  triumphant  over  his  enemies,  saw  with 
cold,  smiling  eyes  the  world  pass  through  his 
chamber.  The  flood-tide  of  his  prosperity  lasted 
thirteen  years  from  that  time,  and  ceased  only  with 
his  death.  For  the  worid  had  learned  its  lesson ; 
to  this  hour  they  call  that  day,  which  saw  me  stand 
aloQe  for  all  his  friends,  *  The  Day  of  Dupes.' 

THE   END. 
2  B 


EDINBURGH 

COLSTON  AND  COMrANY 

PRINTERS 


A  LIST  OF  NEW  BOOKS 

AND  ANNOUNCEMENTS   OF 

METHUEN     AND    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  :  LONDON 

36  ESSEX  STREET 

W.C. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

FORTHCOMING  BOOKS,    . 

2 

POETRY, 

13 

GENERAL  LITERATURE, 

13 

THEOLOGY, 

17 

LEADERS  OF  RELIGION, 

18 

WORKS  BY  S.  BARING  GOULD, 

19 

FICTION, 

21 

NOVEL  SERIES,    . 

24 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS  AND  GIRLS, 

25 

THE  PEACOCK  LIBRARY, 

26 

UNIVERSITY  EXTENSION   SERIES, 

26 

SOCIAL  QUESTIONS  OF  TO-DAY, 

28 

CLASSICAL  TRANSLATIONS,        . 

29 

COMMERCIAL  SERIES,      .... 

29 

WORKS  BY  A.  M.  M.  STEDMAN,  M.A.,   . 

30 

SCHOOL  EXAMINATION  SERIES, 

32 

PRIMARY  CLASSICS, 

I                • 

32 

OCTOBER     1894 


October  1894. 


Messrs.    Methuen's 

ANNOUNCEMENTS 


Poetry 

Rudyard  Kipling.  BALLADS.  By  Rudyard  Kipling. 
Crown  Zvo.     Biukra?n.     (ys.  \May  1895. 

The  announcement  of  a  new  volume  of  poetry  from  Mr.  Kipling  will  excite  wide 
interest.  The  exceptional  success  of  '  Barrack-Room  Ballads,'  with  which  this 
volume  will  be  uniform,  justifies  the  hope  that  the  new  book  too  will  obtain  a 
wide  popularity. 

Henley.      ENGLISH     LYRICS.      Selected    and    Edited    by 
W.  E.  Henley.     Crown  Svo.    Buckram.     6^. 
Also  30  copies  on  hand-made  paper     Demy  Svo.     £\,  is. 
Also  15  copies  on  Japanese  paper.     Demy  Zvo.     £2,  2s. 

Few  announcements  will  be  more  welcome  to  lovers  of  English  verse  than  the  one 
that  Mr.  Henley  is  bringing  together  into  one  book  the  finest  lyrics  in  our 
language.  Robust  and  original  the  book  will  certainly  be,  and  it  will  be  pro- 
duced with  the  same  care  that  made  '  Lyra  Heroica'  deliijhtful  to  the  hand  and 
eye. 

"Q"  THE  GOLDEN  POMP  :  A  Procession  of  English  Lyrics 
from  Surrey  to  Shirley,  arranged  by  A.  T.  QuiLLER  CoucH.  Crown 
8!>o.     Buckram.     6j. 

Also  40  copies  on  hand-made  paper.    Demy  Svo.     £1,  is. 
Also  15  copies  on  Japanese  paper.     Demy  Zvo.    £2,  2s. 
Mr.  Quiller  Couch's  taste  and  sympathy  mark  him  out  as  a  born  anthologist,  and 
out  of  the  wealth  of  Elizabethan  poetry  he  has  made  a  book  of  great  attraction. 

Eooching.     LYRA  SACRA:    An   Anthology  of  Sacred  Veise. 
Edited  by  H.  C.  Beechi.ng,  ^LA.     Croiun  Svo.     Buckram.     6s. 
Also  25  copies  on  hand-made  paper.     21s. 

This  book  will  appeal  to  a  wide  public.  Few  languages  are  richer  in  serious  verse 
than  the  English,  and  the  Editor  has  had  some  difficulty  in  confining  his  material 
within  his  limits. 

Yeats.  AN  ANTHOLOGY  OF  IRISH  VERSE.  Edited  by 
W.  15.  Yeats.     Crown  Svo.     ^s.  dd. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List 


Illustrated  Books 

Baring  Gould.  A  BOOK  OF  FAIRY  TALES  retold  by  S. 
Larixg  Gould.  With  numerous  illustrations  and  initial  letters  by 
Arthur  J.  Gaskin.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 

Also  75  copies  on  hand-made  paper.     Demy  %vo,     £\,  is. 

Also  20  copies  on  Japanese  paper.  Demy  8vo.  £2,  2s. 
Few  living  writers  have  been  more  loving  students  of  fairy  and  folk  lore  than  Mr. 
Baring  Gould,  who  in  this  book  returns  to  the  field  in  which  he  won  his  spurs. 
This  volume  consists  of  the  old  stories  which  have  been  dear  to  generations  of 
children,  and  they  are  fully  illustrated  by  Mr.  Gaskin,  whose  exquisite  designs 
for  Andersen's  Tales  won  him  last  year  an  enviable  reputation. 

Earing    Gould.      A  BOOK    OF    NURSERY    SONGS   AND 
RHYMES.     Edited  by  S.  Baring  Gould,  and  illustrated  by  the 
Students  of  the  Birmingham  Ait  School.     Crown  Zvo.     6s. 
Also  50  copies  on  hand-made  paper,     ^to.     2\s. 

A  collection  of  old  nursery  songs  and  rhymes,  including  a  number  which  are  little 
known.  The  book  contains  some  charming  illustrations  by  the  Birmingham 
students  under  the  superintendence  of  Mr.  Gaskin,  and  Mr.  Baring  Gould  has 
added  numerous  notes. 

EescMng.      A   BOOK   OF   CHRISTMAS  VERSE.       Edited 
by  H.  C.  Beechi.ng,  M.A.,  and  Illustrated  by  Walter  Ckane. 
Crmvn  Svo.    6s. 
Also  75  copies  on  hand-made  paper.     Demy  Svo.     £l,  is. 
Also  20  copies  on  Japanese  paper.     Demy  Zvo.     £2,  2s. 

A  collection  of  the  best  verse  inspired  by  the  birth  of  Christ  from  the  Middle  Ages 
to  the  present  day.  Mr.  Walter  Crane  has  designed  some  beautiful  illustrations. 
A  distinction  of  the  book  is  the  large  number  of  poems  it  contains  by  modern 
authors,  a  few  of  which  are  here  printed  for  the  first  time. 

Jane  Barlow.  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  FROGS  AND  MICE, 
translated  by  Jane  Barlow,  Author  of  'Irish  Idylls,'  and  pictured 
by  F.  D.  Bedford.     Small  4.I0.     6s.  net. 

Also  50  copies  on  hand-made  paper.     d,to.     2\s.  net. 

This  is  a  new  version  of  a  famous  old  fable.  Miss  Barlow,  whose  brilliant  volume 
of  '  Irish  Idylls '  has  gained  her  a  wide  reputation,  has  told  the  story  in  spirited 
flowing  verse,  and  Mr.  Bedford's  numerous  illustrations  and  ornaments  are  as 
spirited  as  the  verse  they  picture.  The  book  will  be  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  original  books  possible. 


4  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

2Dctotional  Books? 

With  full-page  Illustrations. 
THE    IMITATION    OF    CHRIST.      By  THOMAS  A    Kempis. 
With  an   Introduction  by  ARCHDEACON  Farrar.      Illustrated  by 
C.  M.  Gere.     Fcap.  ^vo.     Ss. 

Also  50  copies  on  hand-made  paper,     i^s. 

THE  CHRISTIAN  YEAR.  By  John  Keble.  With  an  Intro- 
duction and  Notes  by  W.  Lock,  M.  A. ,  Sub- Warden  of  Keble  College, 
Author  of  'The  Life  of  John  Keble.'  Illustrated  by  R.  Anning 
Bell.     Fcap.  ?>vo.     5^-. 

Also  50  copies  on  hand-made  paper.     15^. 
These  two  volumes  will  be  charming  editions  of  two  famous  books,   finely  illus- 
trated and  printed  in  black  and  red.     The  scholarly  introductions  will  give  them 
an  added  value,  and  they  will  be  beautiful  to  the  eye,  and  of  convenient  size. 

General  Literature 

GihlDon.  THE  DECLINE  AND  FALL  OF  THE  ROMAN 
EMPIRE.  By  Edward  Gibdon.  A  New  Edition,  edited  with 
Notes  and  Appendices  and  Maps  by  J.  B.  BURY,  M.A.,  Fellow  of 
Trinity  College,  Dublin.     In  seven  vobuiies.     Crown  %vo. 

The  time  seems  to  have  arrived  for  a  new  edition  of  Gibbon's  great  work— furnished 
with  such  notes  and  appendices  as  may  bring  it  up  to  the  standard  of  recent  his- 
torical research.  Edited  by  a  scholar  who  has  made  this  period  his  special  study, 
and  issued  in  a  convenient  form  and  at  a  moderate  price,  this  edition  should  fill 
an  obvious  void. 

Flinders  Petrie.  A  HISTORY  OF  EGYPT,  from  the 
Earliest  Times  to  the  IIyksos.  By  W.  M.  Flinders  Petrie, 
D.C. L.,  Professor  of  Egyptology  at  University  College.  Fully  Illus- 
trated,    Crown  Zvo.     6j. 

This  volume  is  the  first  of  an  illustrated  History  of  Egypt  in  six  volumes,  intended 
both  for  students  and  for  general  reading  and  reference,  and  will  present  a  com- 
plete record  of  what  is  now  known,  both  of  dated  monuments  and  of  events,  from 
the  prehistoric  age  down  to  modern  times.  For  the  earlier  periods  every  trace  of 
the  various  kings  will  be  noticed,  and  all  historical  questions  will  be  fully  discussed. 

The  volumes  will  cover  the  following  periods  ; — 

I.  Prehistoric  to  Hyksos  times.  By  Prof.  Flinders  Petrie.  II.  xviiith  to  xxth 
Dynasties.  III.  xxist  to  xxxth  Dynasties.  IV.  The  Ptolemaic  Rule. 
V.  The  Roman  Rule.     VI.  The  Muhammcdan  Rule. 

The  volumes  will  be  issued  separately.  The  first  will  be  ready  in  the  autunm,  the 
Muhammcdan  volume  early  next  year,  and  others  at  intervals  of  half  a  year. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  5 

Flinders  Petrie.      EGYPTIAN    DECORATIVE  ART.      By 
W.  M.  Flinders  Petrie,  D.C.L.     With  120  Illustrations.     Croivn 
8vo.     y.  6d. 
A  book  which  deals  wUh  a  subject  which  has  never  yet  been  seriously  treated. 

Flinders  Petrie.  EGYPTIAN  TALES.  Edited  by  W.  M. 
Flinders  Petrie.  Illustrated  by  Tristram  Ellis.  Crown  %vo. 
IS.  dd. 

A  selection  of  the  ancient  tales  of  Egypt,  edited  from  original  sources,  and  of  great 
importance  as  illustrating  the  life  and  society  of  ancient  Egypt. 

Soutliey.  ENGLISH  SEAMEN  (Howard,  Clifford,  Hawkins, 
Drake,  Cavendish).  By  Robert  Southey.  Edited,  with  an 
Introduction,  by  David  Hannay.  Crowti  Svo.  6s. 
This  is  a  reprint  of  some  excellent  biographies  of  Elizabethan  seamen,  written  by 
Southey  and  never  republished.  They  are  practically  unknown,  and  they  de- 
serve, and  will  probably  obtain,  a  wide  popularity. 

Waldstein.  JOHN  RUSKIN  :  a  Study.  By  Charles  Wald- 
STEIN,  M.A.,  Fellow  of  King's  College,  Cambridge.  With  a  Photo- 
gravure Portrait  after  Professor  Herkomer.  Post  8z'o.  55. 
Also  25  copies  on  Japanese  paper.  Demy  8vo.  215. 
This  is  a  frank  and  fair  appreciation  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  work  and  influence — literary 
and  social — by  an  able  critic,  who  has  enough  admiration  to  make  him  sym- 
pathetic, and  enough  discernment  to  make  him  impartial. 

Henley  and  V/hibley.     A  BOOK  OF  ENGLISH   PROSE, 

Collected  by  W.  E.  Henley  and  Charles  Whibley.    Cr.  Zvo.    6s. 
Also  40  copies  on  Dutch  paper.     215.  net. 
Also  15  copies  on  Japanese  paper.     42^.  net. 

A  companion  book  to  Mr.  Henley's  well-known  '  Lyra  Heroica.'  It  is  believed  that 
no  such  collection  of  splendid  prose  has  ever  been  brought  within  the  compass  of 
one  volume.  Each  piece,  whether  containing  a  character-sketch  or  incident,  is 
complete  in  itself.     The  book  will  be  finely  printed  and  bound. 

Robbins.  THE  EARLY  LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  EWART 
GLADSTONE.  By  A.  F.  Robbins.  With  Portraits.  Croiun 
?>z'o.     6s. 

A  full  account  of  the  early  part  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  extraordinary  career,  based  on 
much  research,  and  containing  a  good  deal  of  new  matter,  especially  with  regard 
to  his  school  and  college  days. 

Earing  Gould.  THE  DESERTS  OF  SOUTH  CENTRAL 
FRANCE.  By  S.  Baring  Gould.  With  numerous  Illustrations  by 
F.  D.  Bedford,  S.  Hutton,  etc.     2  vols.     Demy  2>vo.     325, 

This  book  is  the  first  serious  attempt  to  describe  the  great  barren  tableland  that 
extends  to  the  south  of  Limousin  in  the  Department  of  Aveyron,  Lot,  etc.,  a 
country  of  dolomite  cliffs,  and  caiions.  and  subterranean  rivers.  The  region  is 
full  of  prehistoric  and  historic  interest,  relics  of  cave-dwellers,  of  medieeval 
robbers,  and  of  the  English  domination  and  the  Hundred  Years'  War.  The 
book  is  lavishly  illustrated. 


6-  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

Baring    Gould.      A    GARLAND    OF    COUNTRY    SONG : 

English  Folk  Songs  with  their  traditional  melodies.  Collected  and 
arranged  by  S.  Baring  Gould  and  H.  Fleetwood  Sheppard. 
Royal  8vo.     6s. 

In  collecting  West  of  England  airs  for  '  Songs  of  the  West,'  the  editors  came  across 
a  number  of  songs  and  airs  of  considerable  merit,  which  were  known  throughout 
England  and  could  not  justly  be  regarded  as  belonging  to  Devon  and  Cornwall. 
Some  fiftj-  of  these  are  now  given  to  the  world. 

Oliphant.  THE  FRENCH  RIVIERA.  By  Mrs.  Oliphant 
and  F.  R.  Oliphant.  With  Illustrations  and  Maps.  Crcnun  Svo. 
6s. 

A  volume  dealing  with  the  French  Riviera  from  Toulon  to  Mentone.  Without  fall- 
ing within  the  guide-book  category,  tlie  book  will  supply  so:ne  useful  practical 
information,  while  occupying  itself  chiefly  with  descriptive  and  historical  matter. 
A  special  feature  will  be  the  attention  directed  to  those  portions  of  the  Riviera, 
which,  though  full  of  interest  and  easily  accessible  from  many  well-frequented 
spots,  are  generally  left  unvisited  by  English  travellers,  such  as  the  Maures 
Mountains  and  the  St.  Tropez  district,  the  country  lying  between  Cannes,  Grasse 
and  the  Var,  and  the  magnificent  valleys  behind  Nice.  There  will  be  several 
original  illustrations. 

George.  BRITISH  BATTLES.  By  H.  B.  George,  M.A., 
Fellow  of  New  College,  Oxford.  IVii/i  nuinerotts  Plans.  Crown 
?,vo.     6s. 

This  book,  by  a  well-known  authority  on  military  historj-,  will  be  an  important 
contribution  to  the  literature  of  the  subject.  All  the  great  battles  of  English 
history  are  fully  described,  connecting  chapters  carefully  treat  of  the  changes 
wrought  by  new  discoveries  and  developments,  and  the  healthy  spirit  of  patriotism 
is  nowhere  absent  from  the  pages. 

Shedlock.  THE  PIANOFORTE  SONATA:  Its  Origin  and 
Development.     By  J.  S.  Shedlock.     Crown  Svo.     ^s. 

This  is  a  practical  and  not  unduly  technical  account  of  the  Sonata  treated  histori- 
cally. It  contains  several  novel  features,  and  an  account  of  various  works  little 
known  to  the  English  public. 

Jenks.  ENGLISH  LOCAL  GOVERNMENT.  By  E  Jenks, 
M.A.,  Professor  of  Law  at  University  College,  Liverpool.  Crown 
Svo.     2s.  6d. 

A  short  account  of  Local  Government,  historical  and  explanatory,  which  will  appear 
very  opportunely. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  ^ 

Dixon.  A  PRIMER  OF  TENNYSON.  By  W.  M.  DixON, 
M.A.,  Professor  of  English  Literature  at  Mason  College,  Fcap.  Svo. 
IS.  6a'. 

This  book  consists  of  (i)  a  succinct  but  complete  biography  of  Lord  Tennyson; 
(2)  an  account  of  the  volumes  published  by  him  in  chronological  order,  dealing  with 
the  more  important  poems  separately  ;  (3)3  concise  criticism  of  Tennyson  in  his 
various  aspects  as  lyrist,  dramatist,  and  representative  poet  of  his  day;  (4)  a 
bibliography.  Such  a  complete  book  on  such  a  subject,  and  at  such  a  moderate 
price,  should  find  a  host  of  readers. 

Oscar  Browning.  THE  AGE  OF  THE  CONDOTTIERI  :  A 
Short  History  of  Italy  from  1409  to  1530.  By  OsCAR  Browning, 
M.  A. ,  Fellow  of  King's  College,  Cambridge.     Crenon  Svo.     55. 

This  book  is  a  continuation  of  Mr.  Browning's   '  Guelphs  and  Ghlbellines,'  and  the 
two  works  form  a  complete  account  of  Italian  history  from  1250  to  1530. 

Layard.  RELIGION  IN  BOYHOOD.  Notes  on  the  Reli- 
gious Training  of  Boys.  With  a  Preface  by  J.  R.  Illingworth. 
By  E.  B.  Layard,  M.A,     iSw^.     i^. 

Hutton.  THE  VACCINATION  QUESTION.  A  Letter  to 
the  Right  lion.  H.  H.  ASQUITH,  M.P.  By  A.  W.  HuTTON, 
M.A.     Crown  Svo.     is. 


Leaders  of  Religion 

NEW  VOLUMES 
Crown  Svo.     2^.  6d. 

LANCELOT  ANDRE\VES,  Bishop  of  Winchester.  By  R.  L. 
Ottley,  Principal  of  Pusey  House,  Oxford,  and  Fellow  of  Mag- 
dalen.     With  Portrait. 

St.  AUGUSTINE  of  Canterbury.  By  E.  L.  CUTTS,  D.D. 
With  a  Portrait. 

THOMAS  CHALMERS.  By  Mrs.  Oliphant.  With  a 
Portrait.     Second  Edition. 

JOHN  KEBLE.  By  Walter  Lock,  Sub-Warden  of  Keble 
College.      With  a  Portrait.     Seventh  Edition. 


8  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 


English  Classics 


Edited  by  \Y.  E.  Henley. 

Messrs.  Methuen  propose  to  publish,  under  this  title,  a  series  of  the  masterpieces  of 

the  English  tongue. 
The  ordinary  'cheap  edition'  appears  to  have  served  its  purpose:  the  public  has 

found  out  the  artist-printer,  and  is  now  ready  for  something  better  fashioned. 

This,  then,  is  the  moment  for  the  issue  of  such  a  series  as,  while  well  within  the 

reach  of  the  average  buyer,  shall  be  at  once  an  ornament  to  the  shelf  of  him  that 

owns,  and  a  delight  to  the  eye  of  him  that  reads. 
The  series,  of  which  Mr.  William  Ernest  Henley  is  the  general  editor,  will  confine 

itself  to  no  single  period  or  department  of  literature.     Poetrj',   fiction,  drama, 

biography,  autobiography,  letters,  essays — in  aJl  these  fields  is  the  material  of 

many  goodly  volumes. 
The  books,  which  are  designed  and  printed  by  Messrs.  Constable,  will  be  issued  in 

two  editions — 

(1)  A  small  edition,  on  the   finest  Japanese  vellum,  limited  in  most 
cases  to  75  copies,  demy  8vo,  215.  a  volume  nett ; 

(2)  The  popular  edition  on  laid  paper,  crown  8vo,  buckram,  35.  6d.  a 
volume. 

The  first  six  numbers  are  : — 

THE  LIFE  AND  OPINIONS  OF  TRISTRAM  SHANDY. 
By  Lawre.n'ce  Sterne.  With  an  Introduction  by  Charles 
Whibley,  and  a  Portrait.     2  roh. 

THE  WORKS  OF  WILLIAM  CONGREVE.  With  an  Intro- 
duction by  G.  S.  Street,  and  a  Portrait.     2  vo/s. 

THE  LIVES  OF  DONNE,  WOTTON,  HOOKER,  HERBERT, 
AND  SANDERSON.  By  Izaak  Walton.  With  an  Introduction 
by  Vernon  Blackkurn,  and  a  Portrait. 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  HADJI  BABA  OF  ISPAHAN. 
By  James  Morier.     With  an  Introduction  by  E.  S.  Browne,  M.A. 

THE  POEMS  OF  ROBERT  BURNS.  With  an  Introduction 
by  W.  E.  Henley,  and  a  Portrait.     2  vo/s. 

THE  LIVES  OF  THE  ENGLISH  POETS.  By  SAMUEL 
Johnson,  LL.U.  With  an  Introduction  by  James  Hepburn 
Millar,  and  a  Portrait.     3  vols. 

Classical   Translations 

N£l^^  VOLUMES 
Crown  8vo.     Finel}'  printed  and  bound  in  blue  buckram. 
LUCIAN— Six  Dialogues  (Nigrinus,  Icaro-Menippus,  The  Cock, 
The  Ship,  The  Parasite,  Tlic  Lover  of  Falsehood).     Translated  by  S. 
T.  IkwiN,  M.  A.,  Assistant  Master  at  Clifton  ;  late  Scholar  of  Exeter 
College,  Oxford.     3^.  bd. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  9 

SOPHOCLES— Electra   and   Ajax.      Translated   by   E.    D.    A. 

MORSHEAD,  M.A.,  late  Scholar  of  New  College,  Oxford;  Assistant 
Master  at  Winchester.     2s.  6d. 

TACITUS— Agricola  and  Germania.  Translated  by  R.  B. 
TowNSHEXD,  late  Scholar  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.     2s.  6d. 

CICERO — Select  Orations  (Pro  Milone,  Pro  Murena,  Philippic  il., 
In  Catilinam).  Translated  by  H.  E.  D.  Elakiston,  M.A.,  Fellow 
and  Tutor  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford.     5^. 

University  Extension  Series 

NEW  VOLUMES.     Crown  Zvo.     is.  td. 

THE  EARTH.  An  Introduction  to  Physiography.  By  EvAN 
Small,  M.A.     Illustrated. 

INSECT  LIFE.     By  F.  W.  THEOBALD,  M.A.     Illustrated. 

Social  Questions  of  To-day 

NEW  VOLUME.     Cro-wiiZvo.     is.td. 

WOMEN'S    WORK.      By  Lady  Dilke,   Miss  Bulley,  and 

INIlSS  WniTLEY. 

cheaper  Editions 

Earing  Gould.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  CAESARS  :  The 
Emperors  of  the  Julian  and  Claudian  Lines.  With  numerous  Illus- 
trations from  Busts,  Gems,  Cameos,  etc.  By  S.  Baring  Gould, 
Author  of  '  Mehalah,' etc.  Third  Edition.  Royal  Zvo.  \^s. 
'A  most  splendid  and  fascinating  book  on  a  subject  of  undying  interest.  The  great 
feature  of  the  book  is  the  use  the  author  has  made  of  the  existing  portraits  of  the 
Caesars,  and  the  admirable  critical  subtlety  he  has  exhibited  in  dealing  with  this 
line  of  research.  It  is  brilliantly  written,  ana  the  illustrations  are  supplied  on  a 
scale  of  profuse  magnificence.' — Daily  Chronicle. 

Clark  Russell.  THE  LIFE  OF  ADMIRAL  LORD  COL- 
LINGWOOD.  By  W.  Clark  Russell,  Author  of  '  The  Wreck 
of  the  Grosvenor.'  With  Illustrations  by  F.  Brangwyn.  Second 
Edition.     %vo.     6s. 

A  most  excellent  and  wholesome  book,  which  we  should  like  to  see  in  the  hands  of 
every  boy  in  the  country.'—  St.  James's  Gazette. 

A2 


lo  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 


Fiction 

3aring  Gould.     KITTY   ALONE.      By    S.   Baring  Gould, 
Author  of  '  Mehalah,'  '  Cheap  Jack  Zita,'  etc.     3  vols.     Crown  2>vo. 
A  romance  of  Devon  Hfe. 

Norris.     MATTHEW  AUSTIN.     By  W.  E.  NORRIS,  Author  of 
'  Mdle.  de  Mersai,'  etc.     3  vols.     Crown  %vo. 
A  story  of  English  social  life  by  the  well-known  author  of  '  The  Rogue." 

Parker.  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD.  By  Gilbert 
Parker,  Author  of  '  Pierre  and  his  People,'  etc.    2  vols.    Crown  8vo. 

A  historical  romance  dealing  with  a  stirring  period  in  the  history  of  Canada. 

Anthony  Hope.     THE  GOD  IN  THE  CAR.     By  Anthony 
Hope,  Author  of  '  A  Change  of  Air,'  etc.     2  vols.     Crown  8vo. 
A  story  of  modern  society  by  the  clever  author  of  '  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.' 

Mrs.    Watson.     THIS  MAN'S  DOMINION.     By  the   Author 
of  'A  High  Little  World.'     2  vols.     Civivn  8vo. 
A  story  of  the  conflict  between  love  and  religions  scruple. 

Oonan  Doyle.  ROUND  THE  RED  LAMP.  By  A.  Conan 
Doyle,  Author  of 'The  White  Company,'  '  The  Adventures  of  Sher- 
lock Holmes,'  etc.  Crown  8vo.  6s. 
This  volume,  by  the  well-known  author  of  '  The  Refugees,'  contains  the  experiences 
of  a  general  practitioner,  round  whose  '  Red  Lamp'  cluster  many  dramas — some 
sordid,  some  terrible.  The  author  makes  an  attempt  to  draw  a  few  phases  of  life 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  man  who  lives  and  works  behind  the  lamp. 

Sarr.  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS.  By  Rorert  Bark, 
Author  of  '  From  Whose  Bourne,'  etc.     Cro^vn  8vo.     6s. 

A  story  of  journalism  and  Fenians,  told  with  much  vigour  and  humour. 

Benson.      SUBJECT  TO  VANITY.    By  Margaret  Benson. 
With  numerous  Illustrations.     Crown  8vo.     3^.  61/. 
A  volume  of  humorous  and  sympathetic  sketches  of  animal  life  and  home  pets. 

X.  L.  AUT  DIABOLUS  AUT  NIHIL,  and  Other  StMies. 
]>y  X.  L.  Crown  8vo.  3 J.  6d. 
A  collection  of  stories  of  much  weird  power.  The  title  story  appeared  some  years 
ago  in  '  lilackwood's  Magazine,'  and  cxxited  considerable  attention.  The 
'  Spect.itor '  spoke  of  it  as  '  distinctly  original,  and  in  the  highest  degree  imagina- 
tive.    The  conception,  if  self-generated,  is  almost  as  lofty  as  Milton's.' 

Morrison.  LIZERUNT,  and  other  East  End  Idylls.  By 
Arthur  Morrison.     Croimi  8vo.     6s. 

A  volume  of  sketches  of  East  End  life,  some  of  which  have  appeared  in  the  '  National 
Observer,'  aii<l  have  been  much  praised  for  their  truth  and  strength  and  pathos. 

O'Grady.  THE  COMING  OF  CURCULAIN.  By  Standisii 
(J'Crauy,  Author  of  'Finn  and  his  Companions,' etc.  Illustrated 
by  Murray  Smith.     C?v7vn  Sz'o.     y.  6d. 

The  blory  of  the  boyhood  of  one  of  the  legendary  heroes  of  Irel.iiid. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  it 


New  Editions 

E.  F.  Benson.    THE  RUBICON.    By  E.  F.  Benson,  Author 

of  '  Dodo."  Fourth  Edition.  Crown  Zvo.  6j. 
Mr.  Benson's  second  novel  has  been,  in  its  two  volume  form,  almost  as  great  a 
success  as  his  first.  The  '  Birmhigham  Post'  says  it  is  '  well  written,  stimulat- 
ing, unconventional,  and,  in  a  word,  characteristic' '.  the  '  National  Observer' 
congratulates  Mr.  Benson  upon  ^ an  exceptional  achievement,'  and  calls  the 
book  '  a  notat'lc  advance  on  his  previous  work.' 

Stanley  Weyman.  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE.  By  Stanley 
Weyman,  Author  of  '  A  Gentleman  of  France.'  With  Twelve  Illus- 
trations by  R.  Caton  Woodville.  Fourth  Edition.  Croiun  ?)Z'0.  6s. 
A  cheaper  edition  of  a  book  which  won  instant  popularity.  No  unfavouraMe  review 
occurred,  and  most  critics  spoke  in  terms  of  enthusiastic  admiration.  The  'West- 
minster Gazette  '  called  it  '  a  book  of  which  wc  Ii.ivc  read  every  7vordfor  the  sheer- 
p'easure  of  reading,  and  which  we  put  doT.vn  witli  a  pang  that  we  cannot  forget 
it  all  and  start  again.'  The  '  Daily  Chronicle'  said  that  ^  every  one  who  reads 
books  at  all  77iust  7-ead  this  thrilling  romance,  from  the  first  page  of  which  to  the 
last  the  breathless  reader  is  haled  along.'  It  also  called  the  book  '  an  inspiration 
of  manliness  and  cou7-age.'  The  'Globe'  called  it  'a  delightful  tale  of  chivalry 
and  adventure,  vivid  and  dramatic,  with  a  wholesome  modesty  and  reverence, 
for  the  highest.' 

Earing   Gould.     THE   QUEEN  OF  LOVE.     By  S.  Baring 

Gould,    Author    of    '  Cheap    Jack    Zita,'    etc.      Second   Edition. 

Crown  Svo,  6s. 
The   scenery  is  admirable  and  the  dramatic   incidents  most  striking.' — Glasgow 

Herald. 
'Strong,  interesting,  and  clever.' — Westminster  Gazette. 
'  You  cannot  put  it  down  till  you  have  finished  it.' — Punch. 
Can  be  heartily  recommended  to  all  who  care  for  cleanly,  energetic,  and  interesting 

fiction.' — Sussex  Daily  News. 

Tvlrs.  Oliphant.  THE  PRODIGALS.  By  Mrs.  Oliphant. 
Second  Edition.      Cro'vn  Svo.     3^.  6d. 

Richard  Pryce.    WINIFRED  MOUNT.    By  Richard  Pryce. 

Second  Edition.      Crown  Sr'O.     35.  6d. 
The  'Sussex  Daily  News'  called  this  book  'a  delightful  story'  s.nA  said  that  the 
writing  was  '  U7iiformly  bright  and  graceful. '    The  '  Daily  Telegraph  '  said  that  the 
author  was  a  '  deft  and  elegant  story-teller^  and  that  the  book  was  '  an  extremely 
clever  story,  utterly  untainted  by  pessi}7iis)7i  or  vulgarity.' 

Constance  Smith.  A  CUMBERER  OF  THE  GROUND. 
By  Constance  Smith,  Author  of  '  The  Repentance  of  Paul  Went- 
worth,'  etc.     New  Edition.     Crown  %vo.     35.  6d. 


12  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 


School  Books 


A  VOCABULARY  OF  LATIN  IDIOMS  AND  PHRASES. 
By  A.  M.  M.  Stedman,  M.A.     iSw^.     is. 

STEPS  TO  GREEK.  By  A.  M.  M.  Stedman,  M.A.  i8ot(7. 
IS.  6d. 

A  SHORTER  GREEK  PRIMER  OF  ACCIDENCE  AND 
SYNTAX.     Ly  A.  M.  ^L  Stedman,  RLA.      Cro-wn  Svo.     is.  dd. 

SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  ODYSSEY.  With  Introduction 
and  Notes.  By  E.  D.  Stone,  M.A.,  late  Assistant  M.aster  at  Eton. 
Fcap.  8vo.     2s. 

THE  ELEMENTS  OF  ELECTRICITY  AND  MAGNETISM. 
With  numerous  Illustrations.  By  R.  G.  Steel,  M.A.,  Head  Master 
of  the  Technical  Schools,  Northampton.     Ciown  ?>vo.     45.  6d. 

THE  ENGLISH  CITIZEN  :    His  Rights  and  Duties.    By 
H.  E.  Malden,  M.A.     Crown  %vo.     is.  6d. 
A  simple  account  of  tlie  p.ivileges  and  duties  of  the  English  citizen. 

INDEX  POETARUM  LATINORUM.      By  E.  F,  Benecke, 
M.A.     Crown  Svo.     4s.  Gd. 
A  concordance  to  Latin  Lyric  Poetry. 


Commercial   Series 


A  PRIMER  OF  BUSINESS.     By  S.  J.VCKSON,  M.A.     Croi.'n 
8vo.     IS.  6d. 

COMMERCIAL  ARITHMETIC.    By  F.  G.  Taylor.    Crozan 
Svo.     IS.  Cd. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  13 

jl3cto  ant)  Becent  BooU^if 
Poetry 

Eiidyard    Kipling.      BARRACK-ROOM     BALLADS;     And 

Other  Verses.     By  Rudyard  Kipling.     Seventh  Edition.      Crown 
Svo.     6s. 

A  Special  Presentation  Edition,  bound   in  white  buckram,  with 
extra  gilt  ornament.      Js.  6</. 

■  Mr.  Kipling's  verse  is  strong,  vivid,  full  of  character.  .  .  .  Unmistakable  genius 
rings  in  every  line.' — Times. 

'The  disreputable  lingo  of  Cockayne  is  henceforth  justified  before  the  vi-orld  ;  for  a 
man  of  genius  has  taken  it  in  hand,  and  has  shown,  beyond  all  cavilling,  that  in 
its  way  it  also  is  a  medium  for  literature.  You  are  grateful,  and  you  say  to 
yourself,  half  in  envy  and  half  in  admiration  :  "  Here  is  a  iook  ;  here,  or  one  is  a 
Dutchman,  is  one  of  the  books  of  the  year."  ' — National  Obseii'cr. 

'"Barrack-Room  Eallads"  contains  some  of  the  best  work  that  Mr.  Kipling  has 
ever  done,  which  is  saying  a  good  deal.  "  Fuzzy- Wuzzy,"  "  Gunga  Din,"  and 
"  Tommy,"  are,  in  our  opinion,  altogether  superior  to  anything  of  the  kind  that 
English  literature  has  hitherto  produced.' — AthencEum. 

'Tliese  ballads  are  as  wonderful  in  their  descriptive  power  as  they  are  vigorous  in 
their  dramatic  force.  There  are  few  ballads  in  the  English  language  more 
stirring  than  "The  Ballad  of  East  and  West, "  worthy  to  stand  by  the  Border 
ballads  of  Scott.' — Spectator. 

'The  ballads  teem  with  imagination,  they  palpitate  with  emotion.  We  read  them 
with  laughter  and  tears;  the  metres  throb  in  our  pulses,  the  cunningly  ordered 
words  tingle  with  life  ;  and  if  this  be  not  poetry,  what  is?' — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

Henley.  LYRA  HEROICA:  An  Anthology  selected  from  the 
best  English  Verse  of  the  l6th,  17th,  iSth,  and  19th  Centuries.  By 
William  Ernest  Henley,  Author  of  'A  Book  of  Verse,'  'Views 
and  Reviews,'  etc.  Crown  Svo.  Stamped  gilt  buckram,  gilt  top, 
edges  uticut.     6s. 

'  Mr.  Henley  has  brought  to  the  task  of  selection  an  instinct  alike  for  poetry  and  for 
chivalry  which  seems  to  us  quite  wonderfully,  and  even  unerringly,  right.' — 
Guardian. 

Tomson.     A  SUMMER  NIGHT,  AND  OTHER  POEMS.     By 
Graham  R.  Tomson.     With  Frontispiece  by  A.  To.mson.     Fcap. 
Svo.     3^.  6d. 
An  edition  on  hand-made  paper,  limited  to  50  copies.     10s.  6d.  net. 

'  Mrs.  Tomson  holds  perhaps  the  very  highest  rank  among  poetesses  of  English  birth. 
This  selection  will  help  her  reputation." — Black  and  White. 


14  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

Ibsen.     BRAND.     A  Drama  by  Henrik  Ibsen.     Translated  by 
William  Wilson.     Croiun  %vo.     Second  Edition.     35.  bd. 

'The  greatest  world-poem  of  the  nineteenth  century  next  to  "Faust."  "Brand" 
will  have  an  astonishing  interest  for  Englishmen.  It  is  in  the  same  set  with 
"Agamemnon,"  with  "  Lear,"  with  the  literature  that  we  now  instinctively  regard 
as  high  and  holy.' — Daily  Chronicle. 

"  Q."    GREEN  BAYS  :  Verses  and  Parodies.     By  "  Q.,"  Author 

of 'Dead  Man's  Rock'  etc.     Second  Edition.     Fcap.  %vo.     3.f.  6(/. 

'The  verses  display  a  rare  and  versatile  gift  of  parody,  great  command  of  metre,  and 
a  very  pretty  turn  of  humour.' — Times. 

"A.G."    VERSES  TO  ORDER.    By"A.  G."    Cr.Zvo.    2s.6d. 
net. 

A  small  volume  of  verse  by  a  writer  whose  initials  are  well  known  to  Oxford  men. 
'A  capital  specimen  of  li)jht  academic  poetry.     These  verses  are  very  bright  and 
engaging,  easy  and  sufficiently  witty.' — .SY.  James's  Gazette. 

Hosken.     VERSES    BY    THE   WAY.     By   J.    D.    Hosken. 
Crown  2:vo.     <,s, 
A  small  edition  on  hand-made  paper.     Price  12s.  6d.  net, 

A  Volume  of  Lyrics  and  Sonnets  by  J.  D.  Hosken,  the  Postman  Poet.  Q,  the 
Author  of  '  The  Splendid  Spur,'  writes  a  critical  and  biographical  intro- 
duction. 

Gale.    CRICKET  SONGS.    By  Norman  Gale.     Crowti  Zvo. 
Linen,     2s.  6d. 

Also  a  limited  edition  on  hand-made  paper.    Demy  8vo.     los.  6d, 
net. 

'  They  are  wrung  out  of  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  and  palpitate  with  the  spirit 

of  the  game. ' — Star. 
'As  healthy  as  they  are  spirited,  and  ought  to  have  a  ^reat  success.' — Tijnes. 
'  Simple,  manly,  and  humorous.    Every  cricketer  should  buy  the  book.' — IVesttninster 

Gazette. 
'  Cricket  has  never  known  such  a  singer.' — Cricket. 

Langbridge.  BALLADS  OF  THE  BRAVE  :  Poems  of  Chivalry, 
Enterprise,  Courage,  and  Constancy,  from  the  Earliest  Times  to  the 
Present  Day.  Edited,  with  Notes,  by  Rev,  F.  Langbridge. 
Crown  8vo.  Buckram  35.  6d.  School  Edition,  2s.  6d. 
'A  very  happy  conception  happily  carried  out.  These  "Ballads  of  the  Brave"  are 
intended  to  suit  the  real  tastes  of  boys,  and  will  suit  the  taste  of  the  ^reat  majority.' 
— .spectator.  'Tlic  booU  i    itiil  of  splendid  things,' — ll^orld. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  15 


General  Literature 

Collingwood.  JOHN  RUSKIN  :  His  Life  and  Work.  By 
W.  G.  Collingwood,  M.A.,  late  Scholar  of  University  College, 
Oxford,  Author  of  the  'Art  Teaching  of  John  Ruskin,'  Editor  of 
Mr.  Ruskin's  Poems.     2  vols.     %vo.     32J.     Second  EdiLion. 

This  important  work  is  written  by  Mr.  Collingwood,  who  has  been  for  some  years 
Mr.  Ruskin's  private  secretary,  and  who  has  had  unique  advantages  in  obtaining 
materials  for  this  book  from  Mr.  Ruskin  himself  and  from  his  friends.  It  contains 
a  large  amount  of  new  matter,  and  of  letters  which  have  never  been  published, 
and  is,  in  fact,  a  full  and  authoritative  biography  of  Mr.  Ruskin.  The  book 
contains  numerous  portraits  of  Mr.  Ruskin,  including  a  coloured  one  from  a 
water-colour  portrait  by  himself,  and  also  13  sketches,  never  before  published,  by 
Mr.  Ruskin  and  Mr.  Arthur  Severn.     A  bibliography  is  added. 

'  No  more  magnificent  volumes  have  been  published  for  a  long  time.  .  .  .'  —  Times. 

'I'bis  most  lovingly  written  and  most  profoundly  interesting  book.' — Daily  Netvs. 

'  It  is  long  since  we  have  had  a  biography  v/ith  such  varied  delights  of  substance 
and  of  form.  Such  a  book  is  a  pleasure  for  the  day,  and  a  joy  for  ever.' — Daily 
Chronicle. 

'  Mr.  Ruskin  could  not  well  have  been  more  fortunate  in  his  biogiapher.'— C/fiJ^. 

'A  noble  monument  of  a  noble  subject.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  books  about  one 
of  the  noblest  lives  of  our  csnlnty. '—Glasgoui  Herald. 

Gladstone.  THE  SPEECHES  AND  PUBLIC  ADDRESSES 
OF  THE  RT.  HON.  W.  E.  GLADSTONE,  M.P.  With  Notes 
and  Introductions.  Edited  by  A.  W.  Hutton,  M.A.  (Librarian  of 
the  Gladstone  Library),  and  H.  J.  Cohen,  M.A.  With  Portraits. 
Svo.      Vols.  IX.  and  X.     12s.  6d.  each. 

Clark  Russell.  THE  LIFE  OF  ADMIRAL  LORD  COL- 
LINGWOOD. By  W.  Clark  Russell,  Author  of  'The  Wreck 
of  the  Grosvenor.'  With  Illustrations  by  F.  Brangwyn.  Second 
Edition.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 

'A  really  good  book.' — Saturday  Review. 

'  A  most  excellent  and  wholesome  book,  which  we  should  like  to  see  in  the  hands  of 
every  boy  in  the  country.' — St.  James's  Gazette. 

Clark.  THE  COLLEGES  OF  OXFORD  :  Their  History  and 
their  Traditions.  By  Members  of  the  University.  Edited  by  A. 
Clark,  M.A.,  Fellow  and  Tutor  of  Lincoln  College.  2>vo.  \2s.  6d. 
Whether  the  reader  approaches  the  book  as  a  patriotic  member  of  a  college,  as  an 
antiquary,  or  as  a  student  of  the  organic  growth  of  college  foundation,  it  will  amply 
reward  his  attention.' — Times. 
'A  delightful  book,  learned  and  lively.' — Academy. 

'  A  work  which  will  certainly  be  appealed  to  for  many  years  as  the  standard  book  on 
the  Colleges  of  O.xford.' — Athena-utit. 


i6  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

Wells.     OXFORD    AND    OXFORD    LIFE.    By  Members  of 
the  University.     Edited  by  J.  Wells,  M.A.,  Fellow  and  Tutor  of 
Wadham  College.     Crown  Zvo.    y.  6d. 
Tills  work  contains  an  account  of  life  at  Oxford— intellectual,  social,  and  religious — 
a  careful  estimate  of  necessary  expenses,  a  review  of  recent  changes,  a  statement 
of  the  present  position  of  the  University,  and  chapters  on  Women's  Education, 
aids  to  study,  and  University  Extension. 
'We  congratulate  Mr.  Wells  on  the  production  of  a  readable  and  intelligent  account 
of  Oxford  as  it  is  at  the  piestnt  time,  written  by  persons  who  are,  with  hardly  an 
exception,   possessed  of  a   close  acquaintance  with  the  system  and   life  of  the 
University.' — Athenauin, 

Pcrrens.  THE  HISTORY  OF  FLORENCE  FROM  THE 
TIME  OF  THE  MEDICIS  TO  THE  FALL  OF  THE 
REPUBLIC.  By  F.  T.  PERiiENS.  Translated  by  Hannah 
Lynch.     In  Three  Volumes.      Vol.  I.     Zvo.     12s.  6d. 

This  is  a  translation  from  the  French  of  the  best  history  of  Florence  in  existence. 
This  volume  covers  a  period  of  profound  interest — political  and  literary — and 
is  written  with  great  vivacity. 

'This  is  a  standard  book  by  an  honest  and  intelligent  historian,  who  has  deserved 
well  of  his  countrymen,  and  of  all  who  are  interested  in  Italian  history." — Man- 
chester Guardian. 

Browning.  GUELPHS  AND  GHIBELLINES  :  A  Short  History 
of  Mcditeval  Italy,  A.D.  1250-1409.     By  OscAR  BROWNING,  Fellow 
and  Tutor  of  King's  College,  Cambridge.     Second  Edition.     Croivn 
^vo.     5^. 
'A  very  able  book.' — Westminster  Gazette. 
'A  vivid  picture  of  medireval  Italy.' — Standard. 

O'Grady.  THE  STORY  OF  IRELAND.  By  Standish 
O'Grady,  Author  of  '  Finn  and  his  Companions.'     Cr.  Svo.     2s.  6d. 

'  Novel  and  very  fascinating  history.     Wonderfully  alluring.' — Cork  E.xa7itincr. 

'Most  delightful,  most  stimulating.  Its  racy  humour,  its  original  imaginings,  its 
perfectly  unique  history,  make  it  one  of  the  freshest,  breeziest  volumes.' — 
Methodist  Times. 

'A  survey  at  once  gr.iphic,  acute,  and  quaintly  written.' — Times. 

Dixon.  ENGLISH  POETRY  FROM  BLAKE  TO  BROWN- 
ING.    ByW.  M.  Dixon,  M.A.     CrownZvo.     y.  6d. 

A  Po|)uIar  Account  of  the  Poetry  of  the  Century. 

'  Scholarly  in  conception,  and  full  of  sound  and  suggestive  criticism.' — Times. 
'The  book  is  rem.irkable  for  freshness  of  thought  expressed  in  graceful  language.' — 
Matichester  Examiner. 

Eowden.  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  BUDDHA:  Beinj?  Quota- 
tions from  Buddhist  Literature  for  each  Day  in  the  Year.  Compiled 
by  E.  M.  BcjwiniN.  With  Preface  by  Sir  Edwin  Arnold.  Third 
Jidilion.     1 6  wo.     2s.  (yd. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  Ltst  17 

Flinders  Petrie.  TELL  EL  A?.IARNA.  By  W.  M.  Flinders 
Petrie,  D.C.L.  With  chapters  by  Professor  A.  H.  Sayce,  D.D.; 
F.  Ll.  Griffith,  F.S.A.;  and  F.  C.  J.  Spurrell,  F.G.S.  With 
numerous  coloured  iUustrations.     Royal  d^o.     20s.  net. 

Massee.  A  MONOGRAPH  OF  THE  MYXOGASTRES.  By 
George  Massee.     With  12  Coloured  Plates.     Royal  Zvo.     iSj-.  net. 

'A  work  much  in  advance  of  any  book  in  the  language  treating  of  this  group  of 
organisms.  It  is  indispensable  to  every  student  of  the  Mxyogastres.  The 
coloured  plates  deserve  high  praise  for  their  accuracy  and  execution.'— iVa/wr^. 

Bushill.  PROFIT  SHARING  AND  THE  LABOUR  QUES- 
TION. By  T.  W.  Bushill,  a  Profit  Sharing  Employer.  With  an 
Introduction  by  Sedley  Taylor,  Author  of  '  Profit  Sharing  between 
Capital  and  Labour.'     Crown  Svo.     2s.  6 J. 

John  Beever.      PRACTICAL    FLY-FISHING,    Founded   on 

Nature,  by  John  Beever,  late  of  the  Thwaite  House,  Coniston.     A 

New  Edition,  with  a  Memoir  of  the  Author  by  W.  G.  Collingwood, 

M.A.     Also  additional  Notes  and  a  chapter  on  Char-Fishing,  by  A. 

and  A.  R.  Severn.     With  a  specially  designed  title-page.     Crown 

Zvo.     35.  6d. 

A  little  book  on  Fly-Fishing  by  an  old  friend  of  Mr.  Ruskin.  It  has  been  out  of 
print  for  some  time,  and  being  still  much  in  request,  is  now  issued  with  a  Memoir 
of  the  Author  by  W.  G.  Collingwood. 


Theolog 


y 

Driver.    SERMONS  ON  SUBJECTS  CONNECTED  WITH 

THE  OLD  TESTAMENT.     By  S.  R.  Driver,  D.D.,  Canon  of 

Christ  Church,    Regius  Professor  of  Hebrew   in   the    University  of 

Oxford.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 

'A  welcome  companion  to  the  author's  famous  '  Introduction.'   No  man  can  read  these 

discourses  without  feeling  that  Dr.  Driver  is  fully  alive  to  the  deeper  teaching  of 

the  Old  Testament.' — Gttardian. 

Cheyne.    FOUNDERS  OF  OLD  TESTAMENT  CRITICISM: 
Biographical,  Descriptive,  and  Critical  Studies.     By  T.  K.  Cheyne, 
D.D.,  Oriel  Professor  of  the  Interpretation  of  Holy  Scripture   at 
O.xford.     Large  crown  Svo.     "js.  6d. 
This  important  book  is  a  historical  sketch  of  O.T.  Criticism  in  the  form  of  biographi- 
cal studies  from  the  days  of  Eichhorn  to  those  of  Driver  and  Robertson  Smith. 
It  is  the  only  book  of  its  kind  in  English. 
'The  volume  is  one  of  great  interest  and  value.     It  displays  all  the  author's  well- 
known  ability  and  learning,  and  its  opportune  publication  has  laid  all  students  of 
theology,  and  specially  of  Bible  criticism,  under  weighty  obligation.' — Scoisntan. 
A  very  learned  and  instructive  work.' — Times. 


1 8  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

Prior.  CAMBRIDGE  SERMONS.  Edited  by  C.  H.  Prior, 
M.  A. ,  Fellow  and  Tutor  of  Pembroke  College.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 

A   volume   of  sermons   preached   before   the   University  of  Cambridge  by  various 

preachers,  including  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  Bishop  Westcott. 
'  A  representative  collection.     Bishop  Westcott's  is  a  noble  sermon.'— diatdian. 
'  Full  of  thoughtfulness  and  dignity.' — Record, 

Beeching.  BRADFIELD  SERMONS.  Sermons  by  H.  C. 
Beecuing,  M.A.,  Rector  of  Yattendon,  Berks.  With  a  Preface  by 
Canon  Scott  Holland.     Croivn  8vo.     2s.  6d. 

Seven  sermons  preached  before  the  boys  of  Bradfield  College. 

James.  CURIOSITIES  OF  CHRISTIAN  HISTORY  PRIOR 
TO  THE  REFORMATION.  By  Croake  James,  Author  of 
'  Curiosities  of  Law  and  Lawyers.'     Crown  8vo.     "js.  6d. 

'This  volume  contains  a  great  deal  of  quaint  and  curious  matter,  affording  some 
"particulars  of  the  interesting  persons,  episodes,  and  events  from  the  Christian's 
point  of  view  during  the  first  fourteen  centuries."  Wherever  we  dip  into  his  pages 
we  find  something  worth  dipping  into." — John  Bull. 

Kaufmann.  CHARLES  KINGSLEY.  By  M.  Kaufmann, 
M.A.      Croivn  8z'0.     Buckram.     Si'. 

A  biography  of  Kingsley,  especially  dealing  with  his  achievements  in  social  reform. 
'  The  author  has  certainly  gone  about  his  work  with  conscientiousnesi  and  industry.' — 
Sheffield  Daily  TelegraJ>/u 

Leaders  of  Religion 

Edited  by  II.  C.  BEECHING,  M.A.      IVith  Portraits,  crown  8vo. 

A  series  of  short  biographies  of  the  most  pro- 
minent leaders  of  religious  life  and  thout 
all  ages  and  countries. 

The  following  are  ready —  2S.  6d. 

CARDINAL  NEWMAN.     By  R.  H.  HuTTON.    Second Edilion. 

'  Few  who  read  this  book  will  fail  to  be  struck  by  the  wonderful  insight  it  displays 
into  the  nature  of  the  Cardinal's  genius  and  the  spirit  of  his  life.' — Wilfrid 
Ward,  in  the  Tablet. 

'  Full  of  knowledge,  excellent  in  method,  and  intelligent  in  criticism.  We  regard  it 
as  wholly  admirable.' — Academy. 

JOHN  WESLEY.    By  J.  H.  Overton,  M.A. 

'  It  is  well  done  :  the  story  is  clearly  told,  proportion  is  duly  observed,  and  there  is 
no  lack  either  of  discrimination  or  of  sympathy.' — Manchester  Guardian. 


a  pro.  ,,  .. 

'>'"°'  2/D  &  3jO 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  19 

BISHOP  WILBERFORCE.     By  G.  W.  Daniel,  M.A. 
CARDINAL  MANNING.     By  A.  W.  Hutton,  ALA. 
CHARLES  SIMEON.     By  H.  C.  G.  MOULE,  M.A. 

3s.  6d. 

JOHN  KEBLE.     By  Walter  Lock,  M.A.     Seventh  Edition. 
THOMAS  CHALMERS.     By  Mrs.  Oliphant.    Second  Edition. 
Other  volumes  will  be  announced  in  due  course. 

Works  by  S.  Baring  Gould 

OLD  COUNTRY  LIFE.  With  Sixty-seven  Illustrations  by 
W.  Parkinson,  F.  D.  Bedford,  and  F.  Masey.  Large  Crown 
%vo,  cloth  super  extra,  top  edge  gilt,  \Qs.  6d.  Fourth  and  Cheaper 
Edition.     6s. 

'  "  Old  Country  Life,"  as  healthy  wholesome  reading,  full  of  breezy  life  and  move- 
ment, full  of  quaint  stories  vigorously  told,  will  not  be  excelled  by  any  book  to  be 
published  throughout  the  year.    Sound,  hearty,  and  English  to  the  core.' — World. 

HISTORIC  ODDITIES  AND  STRANGE  EVENTS.     Third 
Edition.     Crown  Zvo.    ds. 
'A  collection  of  exciting  and  entertaining  chapters.     The  v.hole  vuU:.;ie  is  delightful 
reading. ' —  Times. 

FREAKS  OF  FANATICISM.    Third Editioit.    Crown  ?,vo.  6s. 

'  Mr.  Baring  Gould  has  a  keen  eye  for  colour  and  effect,  and  the  subjects  he  has 
chosen  give  ample  scope  to  his  d<;scriptive  and  analytic  faculties.  A  perfectly 
fascinating  book.' — Scottish  Leader. 

SONGS  OF  THE  WEST:  Traditional  Ballads  and  Songs  of 
the  West  of  England,  with  their  Traditional  Melodies.  Collected 
by  S.  Baring  Gould,  M.A.,  and  H.  Fleetwood  Sheppard, 
M.A.  Arranged  for  Voice  and  Piano.  In  4  Parts  (containing  25 
Songs  each).  Farts  I.,  II.,  III.,  35.  cadi.  Fart  IV.,  ^s.  In  one 
Vol.,  French  morocco,  \^s. 

'A  rich  and  varied  collection  of  humour,  pathos,  grace,  and  poetic  fancy.' — Saturday 

Review. 

YORKSHIRE  ODDITIES  AND  STRANGE  EVENTS. 
Fourth  Edition.     Crown  ^vo.     6s, 


20  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

strange  survivals  and  superstitions.    with 

Illustrations.    By  S.  Baring  Gould.     Croum  %vo.     Second  Edition. 

6s. 
A  book  on  such  subjects  as  Foundations,  Gables,  Holes,  Gallows,  Raising  the  Hat,  Old 

Ballads,  etc.  etc.     It  traces  in  a  most  interesting  manner  their  origin  and  history. 
'  We  have  read  I\Ir.  Baring  Gould's  book  from  beginning  to  end.      It  is  full  of  quaint 

and  various  information,  and  there  is  not  a  duU  page  in  it.' — Notes  and  Queries, 

THE      TRAGEDY      OF      THE      CAESARS:      The 

Emperors  of  the  Julian  and  Claudian  Lines.  With  numerous  Illus- 
trations from  Busts,  Gems,  Cameos,  etc.  By  S.  Baring  Gould, 
Author  of  '  Mehalah,' etc.      Third  Edition.     KoyalZvo.     \^s. 

'  A  most  splendid  and  fascinating  book  on  a  subject  of  undying  interest.  The  great 
feature  of  the  book  is  the  use  the  author  has  made  of  the  e.xisting  portraits  of  the 
Caesars,  and  the  admirab'e  critical  subtlety  he  has  exhibited  in  dealing  with  this 
line  of  research.  It  is  brilliantly  written,  and  the  illustrations  are  supplied  on  a 
scale  of  profuse  magnificence.' — Daily  Chronicle. 

'  The  volumes  will  in  no  sense  disappoint  the  general  reader.  Indeed,  in  their  way, 
there  is  nothing  in  any  sense  so  good  in  English.  .  .  .  Mr.  Baring  Gould  has 
presented  his  narrative  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  make  one  dull  page.' — Atkeiueiiitt. 

MR.  BARING  GOULD'S  NOVELS 

'To  say  that  a  book  is  by  the  author  of  "  Mehalah  "  is  to  imply  that  it  contains  a 
story  cast  on  strong  lines,  containing  dramatic  possibilities,  vivid  and  sympathetic 
descriptions  of  Nature,  and  a  wealth  of  ingenious  imagery.' — SJ>caker. 

'That  whatever  Mr.  Baring  Gould  writes  is  well  worth  reading,  is  a  conclusion  that 
may  be  very  generally  accepted.  His  views  of  life  are  Iresh  and  vigorous,  his 
language  pointed  and  characteristic,  the  incidents  of  which  he  makes  use  are 
striking  and  original,  his  char.icters  are  life-like,  and  though  somewhat  excep- 
tional people,  are  drawn  and  coloured  with  artistic  force.  Add  to  this  that  his 
descriptions  of  scenes  and  scenery  are  painted  with  the  loving  eyes  and  skilled 
hands  of  a  master  of  his  art,  that  he  is  always  fresh  and  never  dull,  and  under 
such  conditions  it  is  no  wonder  that  readers  liave  gained  confidence  both  in  his 
power  of  amusing  and  satisfying  them,  and  that  year  by  year  his  popularity 
widens." — Court  Circular. 

SIX    S 'HILLINGS     EACH 

IN  THE  ROAR  OF  THE  SEA  :  A  Tale  of  the  Cornish  Coast. 
MRS.  CURGENVEN  OF  CURGENVEN. 
CHEAP  JACK  ZITA. 
THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE. 

TUnEE     SHILLINGS     AfJD     SIXPENCE     EACH 

AR.MINELL:    A  Social  Romance. 

URITH  :   A  Story  of  Dartmoor. 

MARGERY  OF  QUETHER,  and  other  Stories. 

JACQUETTA,  and  other  Stories. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  Si 

Fiction 

SIX    SHILLING     NOVELS 

Corelli.  DARABBAS  :  A  DREAM  OF  THE  WORLD^S 
TRAGEDY.  By  Marie  Corelli,  Author  of  'A  Romance  of  Two 
Worlds,' 'Vendetta,' etc.  Eleventh  Edition.  CroiJunZvo.  6s. 
Miss  Corelli's  new  romance  has  been  received  with  much  disapprobation  by  the 
secular  papers,  and  with  warm  welcome  by  the  religious  papers.  By  the  former 
she  has  been  accused  of  blasphemy  and  bad  taste  ;  'a  gory  nigh',  mare' ;  'a  hideous 
travesty';  'grotesque  vulgarisation';  'unworthy  of  criticism';  'vulgar  redun- 
dancy'; 'sickening  details' — these  are  some  of  the  secular  flowers  of  speech. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  'Guardian'  praises  'the  dignity  of  its  conceptions,  the 
reserve  round  the  Central  Figure,  the  tine  imagery  of  the  scene  and  circumstance, 
so  much  that  is  elevating  and  devout ' ;  the  '  Illustrated  Church  News '  styles  the 
book  '  reverent  and  artistic,  broad  based  on  the  rock  of  our  common  nature,  and 
appealing  to  what  is  best  in  it '  ;  the  '  Christian  World '  says  it  is  written  '  by  one 
who  has  more  than  conventional  reverence,  who  has  tried  to  tell  the  story  that  it 
may  be  read  again  with  open  and  attentive  eyes ' ;  the  '  Church  of  England 
Jfulpit'  welcomes  'a  book  which  teems  with  faith  without  any  appearance  of 
irreverence.' 

Benson.  DODO:  A  DETAIL  OF  THE  DAY.  By  E.  F. 
Benson.  Croiun  Svo.  Fourteenth  Edition,  ds. 
A  story  of  society  by  a  new  writer,  full  of  interest  and  power,  which  has  attracted 
by  its  brilliance  universal  attention.  The  best  critics  were  cordial  in  their 
praise.  The  '  Guardian  '  spoke  of  '  Dodo '  as  unusually  clever  and  interesting  ; 
the  'Spectator'  called  it  a  delightfully  witty  slcetch  of  society ;  the  'Speaker' 
said  the  dialogue  was  a  perfetual  feast  of  epigram  and  paradox  ;  the 
'  Athenaeum '  spoke  of  the  author  as  a  writer  of  q^cite  exceptio>ial  ability  ; 
the  'Academy'  \>ra.\s&iih\%  amazing  cleverness ;  the  'World'  said  the  book  was 
brilliantly  written  ;  and  half-a-dozen  papers  declared  there  was  not  a  dull  page 
in  the  hook. 

Baring  Gould.  IN  THE  ROAR  OF  THE  SEA:  A  Tale  of 
the  Cornish  Coast.     By  S.  Baring  Gould.     Neiv  Editioti.     ds. 

Eajing  Gould.  MRS.  CURGENVEN  OF  CURGENVEN. 
By  S.  Baring  Gould.     Third  Edition.     ()s. 

A  story  of  Devon  life.  The  '  Graphic '  speaks  of  it  as  a  novel  of  vigorous  humour  and 
sustained  power  ;  the  '  Sussex  Daily  News  '  says  that  the  swing  of  the  narrative 
is  splendid;  and  the  •  Speaker'  mentions  its  bright  iinaginative  power. 

Earing  Gould.    CHEAP  JACK  ZITA.      By  S.  Baring  Gould. 
Third  Edition.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 
A  Romance  of  liie  Ely  Fen  District  in  1S15,  wh'ch  the  '  Westminster  Gazette'  calls 
'a  powerful  drama  of  human  passion';   and  the  'National  Observer'   'a  stcry 
worthy  the  author.' 

Earing  Gould.  THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE.  By  S.  Baring 
Gould.     Second  Edition,     Crowfi  Svo.     6s. 

The  'Glasgow  Herald  '  says  that  'the  scenery  is  admirable,  and  the  dramatic  inci- 
dents are  mo>t  striking.'  The  'Westminster  Gazette'  calls  the  book  'strong, 
interesting,  and  clever.'  'Punch'  says  that  'you  cannot  put  it  down  until  you 
have  finished  it.'  'The  Sussex  Daily  News'  says  that  it  'can  be  heartily  recom- 
mended to  all  who  care  for  cleanly,  energetic,  and  interesting  fiction.' 


22  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

Norris.  HIS  GRACE.  By  W.  E.  Norris,  Author  of 
'Mademoiselle  de  Mersac'     Third  Edition.     Crown  %vo.     6s. 

'  The  characters  are  delineated  by  the  author  with  his  characteristic  skill  and 
vivacity,  and  the  story  is  told  with  that  ease  of  manners  and  Thackerayean  in- 
sight which  give  strength  of  flavour  to  Mr.  Norris's  novels  No  one  can  depict 
the  Englishwoman  of  the  better  classes  with  more  subtlety.' — Glasgcnu  Herald. 

'  Mr.  Norris  has  drawn  a  really  fine  character  in  the  Duke  of  Hurstbourne,  at  once 
unconventional  and  very  true  to  the  conventionalities  of  life,  weak  and  strong  in 
a  breath,  capable  of  inane  follies  and  heroic  decisions,  yet  not  so  definitely  por- 
trayed as  to  relieve  a  reader  of  the  necessity  of  study  on  his  own  behalf.' — 
A  thenctiim. 

Parker.  MRS.  FALCHION.  By  Gilbert  Parker,  Author  of 
'Pierre  and  His  People.'  Neiv  Edition.  65. 
Mr.  P.arker's  second  book  has  received  a  warm  welcome.  The  '  Athenaeum  '  called 
it  a  splendid  study  of  character ;  the  '  Pall  Mall  Gazette  '  spoke  of  the  writing  as 
but  little  behind  anything  that  has  been  done  by  any  ivriter  of  our  time  ;  the 
'St.  James's'  called  \t  a  very  striking  and  adviiraHe  novel;  and  the  'West- 
minster Gazette  '  applied  to  it  the  epithet  oi  distinguished. 

Parker.      PIERRE    AND    HIS    PEOPLE.      By    Gilbert 
Parker.     Crown  Zvo.     Buckram.      6s. 
'Stories  happily  conceived  and  finely  executed.     There  is  strength  and  genius  in  Mr. 
Parker's  style.' — Daily  Telegraph. 

Parker.  THE  TRANSLATION  OF  A  SAVAGE.  By  Gilbert 
Parker,  Author  of  '  Pierre  and  His  People,'  '  Mrs.  Falchion,'  etc. 
Cro'iVn  8vo.     55. 

'  The  plot  is  original  and  one  difficult  to  work  out ;  but  Mr.  Parker  has  done  it  with 
great  skill  and  delicacy.  The  reader  who  is  not  interested  in  this  original,  fresh, 
and  well-told  tale  must  be  a  dull  person  indeed.' — Daily  Chronicle. 

'A  strong  and  successful  piece  of  workmanship.  The  portrait  of  Lali,  strong,  digni- 
fied, and  pure,  is  exceptionally  well  drawn.' — flfanchester  Guardian. 

'  .\  very  pretty  and  interesting  story,  and  Mr.  Parker  tells  it  with  much  skill.  The 
story  is  one  to  be  read.' — St.  James's  Gazette. 

Anthony    Hope.      A    CHANGE    OF    AIR  :    A    Novel.      By 
Anthony    Hote,     Aiulior    of    'The    Prisoner    of   Zenda,'    etc. 
Crown  8vo.     6s. 
A  bright  story  by  Mr.  Hope,  who  has,  the  Athcniru/n  s.iys,  'a  decided  outlook  and 

individuality  of  his  own.' 
'  .\  graceful,  vivacious  comedy,  true  to  human  nature.     The  characters  are  traced 
with  a  masterly  hand.' — Times. 

Pryce.     TIME  AND  THE  WOMAN.    By  Richard  Pryce, 
Author  of 'Miss  Maxwell's  Affections,'  'The  Quiet  Mrs.   Fleming,' 
etc.     New  and  Cheaper  Edition.     Crown  'Svo.     6s. 
'  Mr.  Prycc's  work  recalls  the  style  of  Octave  Feuiilet,  by  its  clearness,  concisenes.s, 
its  literary  reserve." — Athcnerum. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  23 

Marriott  Watson.  DIOGENES  OF  LONDON  and  other 
Sketches.  By  11.  B.  Marriott  Watson,  Author  of  'The  Web 
of  the  Spider.'     CroivnZvo.     Biickra7n.     6s. 

'  By  all  those  who  delight  in  the  uses  of  words,  who  rate  the  exercise  of  prose  above 
the  exercise  of  verse,  who  rejoice  in  all  proofs  of  its  delicacy  and  its  strength,  who 
believe  that  English  prose  is  chief  among  the  moulds  of  thought,  by  these 
Mr.  Marriott  Watson's  book  will  be  welcomed.' — National  Obseti'er. 

Gilchrist.    THE  STONE  DRAGON.    By  Murray  Gilchrist. 

Crown  ^z'o.    Bttckram.    ds. 

'The  author's  faults  are  atoned  for  by  certain  positive  and  admirable  merits.  The 
romances  have  not  their  counterpart  in  modern  literature,  and  to  read  them  is  a 
unique  experience.' — National  Obso'ver. 

THREE-AND-SIXPENNY     NOVELS 

Baring  Gould.  ARMINELL:  A  Social  Romance.  By  S. 
Baring  Gould.     Neiu  Edition.     Crown  Svo.     y.  6d. 

Baring  Gould.     URITH  :  A  Story  of  Dartmoor.     By  S.  Baring 
Gould.      Third  Edition.      Crown  Zvo.     y.  6d. 
'  The  author  is  at  his  best.' — Times. 
'  He  has  nearly  reached  the  high  water-mark  of  "  Mehalah."  '—National  Observer. 

Baring  Gould.  MARGERY  OF  QUETHER,  and  other  Stories. 
By  S.  Baring  Gould.     Crown  Svo.     3^.  6d. 

Baring  Gould.  JACQUETTA,  and  other  Stories.  By  S.  Baring 
Gould,      Crown  Svo.     35.  6d. 

Gray.  ELSA.  A  Novel.  By  E.  M'Queen  Gra-^.  CrownZvo. 
35.  ed. 

'A  charming  novel.  The  characters  are  not  only  powerful  sketches,  but  minutely 
and  carefully  finished  portraits.' — Guardian. 

rearce.      JACO  TRELOAR.      By   J.    H.   Pearce,   Author  of 

'Esther  Pentreath.'     New  Edition.     Crown  Svo.     y.  6d. 
A  tragic  story  of  Cornish  life  by  a  writer  of  remarkable  power,  whose  first  novel  has 

been  highly  praised  by  Mr.  Gladstone. 
The  '  Spectator'  speaks  of  Mr.  Pearce  as  a  'Mi-iier  0/ exceptional  power ;  the  '  Daily 

Telegraph'   calls  thz  hook  ^ozuetful  and  J>ictt(rcsgue  ;    the  'Birmingham  Post' 

asserts  that  it  is  a  jiovel  0/ liigh  quality. 

Edna  Lyall.  DERRICK  VAUGHAN,  NOVELIST.  By 
Edna  Lyall,  Author  of  '  Donovan,'  etc.      Crown  Svo.     35.  M. 

Clark  RusseU.  MY  DANISH  SWEETHEART.  By  W. 
Clark  Russell,  Author  of  'The  Wreck  of  the  Grosveuor,'  elc. 
JUitdrated.      Thud  Edition.      Crown  Svo.      y.  (yd. 


24  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

Author  of  'Vera.'     THE   DANCE  OF  THE  HOURS.     By 

the  Author  of  '  Vera.'     Crown  ?,z'o.     y.  6d. 

Esm^  Stuart.     A  WOMAN  OF  FORTY.    By  Esme  Stuart, 
Author  of   'Muriel's   Marriage,'   'Virginie's    Husband,'  etc.      New 
Edition.      Crown  ?,vo.     35.  6d. 
'The  story  is  well  written,  .Tnd  some  of  the  scenes  show  great  dramatic  power.' — 
Daily  Chronicle. 

Fenn.  THE  STAR  GAZERS.  By  G.  :Manvili,e  Fenn, 
Author  of  '  Eli's  Children,'  etc.     New  Edition.     Cr.  %vo.     ^s.  6d. 

'A  stirring  romance.' — IVestern  Morning  A'eivs. 

'Told  with  all  the  dramatic  power  for  which  Mr.  Fenn  is  con<.^\c\XQ\i^.'— Bradford 
Observer. 

Dicidnson.     A  VICAR'S  WIFE.      By   Evelyn    Dickinson. 

Croiun  2iV0.     2)^.  6d. 
PrC775e.    THE  POISON  OF  ASPS.     By  R.  Orton  Prowse. 

Crown  Svo.     3^.  6d. 


Grey.  THE  STORY  OF  CHRIS.  By  Rowland  Grey. 
Crown  Sft'.     5''- 

Lynn  Linton.  THE  TRUE  HISTORY  OF  JOSHUA  DAVID- 
SON, Christian  and  Communist.  By  E.  Lynn  Linton.  Eleventh 
Edition.     Post  Svo.     is. 


HALF-CROWN      NOVELS 

A  Series  of  Novels  by  popular  Authors,  tastefully 
bound  in  cloth. 


2/6 


1.  THE  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN.    By  F.  Mabel  Robinson. 

2.  DISENCHANTMENT.     By  F.  Mabel  Robinson. 

3.  MR.  BUTLER'S  WARD.    By  F.  Mabel  Robinson. 

4.  HOVENDEN,  V.C.    By  F.  Mabel  Robinson. 

5.  ELI'S  CHILDREN.  By  G.  Manville  Fenn. 

6.  A  DOUBLE  KNOT.    By  G.  Manville  Fenn. 

7.  DISARMED.    By  M.  Betham  Edwards. 

8.  A  LOST  ILLUSION.    By  Leslie  Keith. 

9.  A  MARRIAGE  AT  SEA.    By  W.  Clark  Russell. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  2^ 

10.  IN  TENT  AND  BUNGALOW.    By  the  Author  of  '  Indian 

Idylls.' 

11.  MY  STEWARDSHIP.    By  E.  M'Queen  Gray. 

12.  A  REVEREND  GENTLEMAN.     By  J.  M.  Cobban. 

13.  A   DEPLORABLE   AFFAIR.      By  W.  E.   NoRRis. 

14.  JACK'S  FATHER.     By  W.  E.  NORRIS. 

Other  volumes  will  be  announced  in  due  course. 


Books  for  Boys  and  Girls 

Baring    Gould.      THE   ICELANDER'S    SWORD.       By    S. 
Baring    Gould,    Author  of   'Mehalah/   etc.     With   Twenty-nine 
Illustrations  by  J.  MOYR  Smith.     CroumZvo.    ds. 
A  stirring  story  of  Icelan-i   written  for  boys  by  the  author  of    In  the  Roar  of  the  Sea. 

CutheU.     TWO    LITTLE    CHILDREN   AND    CHING.     By 
Edith  E.  Cuthell.     Profusely  Illustrated.      Crowji  2>vo.     Cloth, 
gilt  edges.     35.  bd. 
Another  story,  with  a  dog  hero,  by  the  author  of  the  very  popular  '  Onlj'  a  GuarJ- 
Room  Dog.' 

Blake.     TODDLEBEN'S  HERO.    By  M.  M.  Blake,  Author  of 
'The  Siege  of  Norwich  Castle.'      With  36  Illustrations.       Croivn 
?>vo.     35.  6d. 
A  story  of  military  life  for  children. 

CutheU.  ONLY  A  GUARD-ROOM  DOG.  By  Mrs.  CUTHELL. 
With  16  Illustrations  by  W^  Parkinson.    Squ:ire  Croivn  ?>vo.    31.  6d. 

'  This  is  a  charming  story.  Tangle  was  but  a  little  mongrel  Skye  terrier,  but  he  had  a 
big  heart  in  his  little  body,  and  played  a  hero's  part  more  than  once.  The  book 
can  be  warmly  recommended.' — Standard. 

CoUingwood.  THE  DOCTOR  OF  THE  JULIET.  By  Harry 
COLLINGWOOD,  Author  of  'The  Pirate  Island,'  etc.  Illustrated  l)y 
Gordon  Browne.     Crown  Zvo.     y.  6d. 

'  "The  Doctor  of  the  Juliet,"  well  illustrated  by  Gordon  Browne,  is  one  of  Harry 
Collingwood's  best  efforts.' — Morning  Post. 


26  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

Clark  Russell.  MASTER  ROCKAFELLAR'S  VOYAGE.  By 
W.  Clark  Russell,  Author  of  '  The  Wreck  of  the  Grosvenor,'  etc. 
Illustrated  by  Gordon  Browne.  Second  Edition,  Crown  ^vo. 
35.  6d. 
'Mr.  Clark  Russell's  storj'  of  "Master  Rockafellar's  Voyage"  will  be  among  the 
favourites  of  the  Christmas  books.  There  is  a  rattle  and  "  go  "  all  through  it,  and 
its  illustrations  are  charming  in  themselves,  and  very  much  above  the  average  in 
the  way  in  which  they  are  produced.' — Guardian. 

Manville  Fenn.  SYD  BELTON  :  Or,  The  Boy  who  would  not 
go  to  Sea.  By  G.  Manville  Fexn,  Author  of  '  In  the  King's 
Name,'  etc.  Illustrated  by  Gordon  Browne.  Crown  Hvo.  35.  6d. 
Who  among  the  young  story-reading  public  will  not  rejoice  at  the  sight  of  the  old 
combination,  so  often  proved  admirable— a  story  by  Manville  Fenn,  illustrated 
by  Gordon  Browne  ?  The  story,  too,  is  one  of  the  good  old  sort,  full  of  life  and 
vigour,  breeziness  and  fun.' — J oujnal  of  Education. 


3/6 


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A  Series  of  Books  for  Girls  by  well-known  Authors, 
handsomely  bound  in  blue  and  silver,  and  well  illustrated. 
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1.  A  FINCH  OF  EXPERIENCE.     By  L.  B.  Walford. 

2.  THE  RED  GRANGE.     By  Mrs.  Molesworth. 

3.  THE  SECRET  OF  MADAME  DE  MONLUC.      By  the 

Author  of  '  Mdle  Mori.' 

4.  DUMPS.     By  Mrs.  Parr,  Author  of  'Adam  and  Eve.' 

5.  OUT  OF  THE  FASHION.    By  L.  T.  Meade. 

6.  A  GIRL  OF  THE  PEOPLE.     By  L.  T.  Meade. 

7.  IIEPSY  GIPSY.    By  L.  T.  Meade.    2s.  bd. 

8.  THE  HONOURABLE  MISS.    By  L.  T.  Meade. 

9.  MY  LAND  OF  BEULAH.    By  Mrs.  Leith  Adams. 

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Messrs.  Methuen's  List  27 

plete  in  itself,  and  the  subjects  are   treated  by  competent  writers  in  a 
broad  and  philosophic  spirit. 

Edited  by  J.  E.  SYMES,  M.A., 

Principal  of  University  College,  Nottingham, 

Crown  8z>o.    Price  {with  some  exceptions)  2s.  6d. 

The  following  volumes  are  ready : — 

THE  INDUSTRIAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.  By  H.  DE 
B.  GiBBiNS,  M.A.,  late  Scholar  of  Wadham  College,  Oxon.,  Cobden 
Prizeman.  Third  Edition.  With  Maps  and  Plans.  35. 
'A  compact  and  clear  story  of  our  industrial  development.  A  study  of  this  concise 
but  luminous  book  cannot  fail  to  give  the  reader  a  clear  insight  into  the  principal 
phenomena  of  our  industrial  hisn-y.  The  editor  and  publishers  are  to  be  congrat- 
ulated on  this  first  volume  of  thcii-  venture,  and  we  shall  look  with  expectant 
interest  for  the  succeeding  volumes  of  the  series.' —  University  Extension  Journal, 

A  HISTORY  OF  ENGLISH  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  By 
L.  L.  Price,  M.A.,  Fellow  of  Oriel  College,  Oxon. 

PROBLEMS  OF  POVERTY  :  An  Inquiry  into  the  Industrial 
Conditions  of  the  Poor.     By  J.  A.  Hobson,  M.A. 

VICTORIAN  POETS.    By  A.  Sharp. 

THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.    By  J.  E.  Symes,  M.A. 

PSYCHOLOGY.  By  F.  S.  Granger,  M.A.,  Lecturer  in  Philo- 
sophy at  University  College,  Nottingham. 

THE  EVOLUTION  OF  PLANT  LIFE  :  Lower  Forms.  By 
G.  Massee,  Kew  Gardens.     With  Illustrations. 

AIR  AND  WATER.     Professor  V.  B.  Lewes,  M.A.    Illustrated. 

THE  CHEMISTRY  OF  LIFE  AND  HEALTH.  By  C.  W. 
KiMMlNS,  M.A.  Camb.     Illustrated. 

THE  MECHANICS  OF  DAILY  LIFE.  By  V.  P.  SELLS,  M.A. 
Illustrated. 

ENGLISH  SOCIAL  REFORMERS.    H.  DE  B.  Giebins,  M.A. 

ENGLISH  TRADE  AND  FINANCE  IN  THE  SEVEN- 
TEENTH CENTURY.    By  W.  A.  S.  Hewins,  B.A. 

THE  CHEMISTRY  OF  FIRE.  The  Elementary  Principles  of 
Chemistry.    By  M.  M.  Pattison  MuiR,  j\I.A.     Illustrated. 

A  TEXT-BOOK  OF  AGRICULTURAL  BOTANY.  By  M.  C. 
Potter,  M.A.,  F.L.S.     Illustrated.     35.  6d. 


28  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

THE  VAULT  OF  HEAVEN.  A  Popular  Introduction  to 
Astronomy.     By  R.  A.  Gregory.      With   numerous  Illustrations. 

METEOROLOGY.  The  Elements  of  Weather  and  Climate. 
By  H.  N.  Dickson,  F.R.S.E.,  F.R.  Met.  Soc.    Illustrated. 

A  MANUAL  OF  ELECTRICAL  SCIENCE.  By  George 
J.  BuRCil,  M.A.     With  numerous  Illustrations.     3^. 

Social   Questions  of  To-day- 
Edited  by  H.  DE  B.  GIBBINS,  M.A. 

Crown  Zvo.     2s.  6d.  ^  \  s\ 

A  series  of  volumes  upon  those  topics  of  social,  economic,  j 

and  industrial  interest  that  are  at  the  present  moment  fore- 
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author  who  is  an  acknowledged  authority  upon  the  subject  with  which 

he  deals. 

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TRADE  UNIONISM— NEW  AND  OLD.      By  G.   Howell, 

M.P.,  Author  of  'The  Conflicts  of  Capital  and  Labour.'     Second 

Edition. 
THE  CO-OPERATIVE   MOVEMENT    TO-DAY.      By  G.  J. 

HoLYOAKE,  Author  of  '  The  History  of  Co-operation.' 
MUTUAL  THRIFT.     By  Rev.  J.  Frome  Wilkinson,  M.A., 

Author  of '  The  Friendly  Society  Movement.' 
PROBLEMS  OF  POVERTY  :  An  Inquiry  into  the  Industrial 

Conditions  of  the  Poor.     By  J.  A.  IIOBSON,  M.A. 
THE  COMMERCE    OF    NATIONS.      By   C.   F.    Bastable, 

M.A.,  Professor  of  Economics  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin. 
THE  ALIEN  INVASION.   By  W.  H.  Wilkins,  B.A.,  Secretary 

to  the  Society  for  Preventing  the  Immigration  of  Destitute  Aliens. 
THE  RURAL  EXODUS.    By  P.  Anderson  Graham. 
LAND  NATIONALIZATION.     By  Harold  Cox,  B.A. 
A    SHORTER    WORKING    DAY.      By   H.   DE    B.    GiBBiNS 

and  R.  A.  Hadkield,  of  the  Ilccla  Works,  Slicfheld. 
BACK  TO  THE  LAND:  An  Inquiry  into  the  Cure  for  Rural 

Depopulation.     By  H.  E.  Mooke. 


Messrs.  Methuen's  List  29 

TRUSTS,  POOLS  AND  CORNERS  :  As  affecting  Commerce 

and  Industry.     By  J.  Stephen  Jeans,  M.R.I.,  F.S.S. 
THE  FACTORY  SYSTEM.    By  R.  Cooke  Taylor. 
THE    STATE    AND    ITS    CHILDREN.      By    Gertrude 

TUCKWELL. 

Classical  Translations 

Edited  by  H.  F.  FOX,  M.A.,  Fellow  and  Tutor  of  Brasenose 
College,  Oxford. 
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CICERO— De  Oratore  I.  Translated  by  E.  N.  P.  MoOR,  M.A., 
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^SCHYLUS — Agamemnon,  Choephoroe,  Eumenides.  Trans- 
lated by  Lewis  Campbell,  LL.D.,  late  Professor  of  Greek,  at  St. 
Andrews.     55. 

LUCIAN — Six  Dialogues  (Nigrinus,  Icaro-Menippus,  The  Cock, 
The  Ship,  The  Parasite,  The  Lover  of  Falsehood).  Translated  by 
S.  T.  Irwin,  M.A.,  Assistant  Master  at  CHfton  ;  late  Scholar  of 
Exeter  College,  Oxford,     y.  6d. 

SOPHOCLES— Electra  and  Ajax.  Translated  by  E.  D.  A. 
MoRSHEAD,  M.A.,  late  Scholar  of  New  College,  Oxford  ;  Assistant 
Master  at  Winchester.     2s.  6d. 

TACITUS — Agricola  and  Germania.  Translated  by  R.  B. 
TowNSiiEND,  late  Scholar  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.     2s.  6d. 

CICERO— Select  Orations  (Pro  Milone,  Pro  Murena,  Philippic  ll., 
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and  Tutor  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford.      S^. 

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BETH TO  VICTORIA.  By  H.  de  B.  Gibbins,  M.A.,  Author 
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30  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

a  manual  of  french  commercial  corres- 
PONDENCE. By  S.  E.  Bally,  Modern  Language  Master  at 
the  Manchester  Grammar  School.     2s. 

COMMERCIAL  GEOGRAPHY,  with  special  reference  to  Trade 
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Lyde,  M.A.,  of  The  Academy,  Glasgow.     2s. 

COMMERCIAL  EXAMINATION  PAPERS.  By  H.  de  B. 
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THE  ECONOMICS  OF  COMMERCE.    By  H.  DE  B.  GiBBlNS, 

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sent of  Dr.  Kennedy. 

THE  LATIN  COMPOUND  SENTENCE  RULES  AND 
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Messrs.  Methuen's  List  31 

NOTANDA  OUAEDAM  :  Miscellaneous  Latin  Exercises  on 
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A  VOCABULARY   OF   LATIN  IDIOMS   AND  PHRASES. 

iSmo.     is. 
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GRAMMAR  AND  IDIOMS.     Fourth  Edition. 
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STEPS  TO  GREEK.     iSmo.     is.  6d. 

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EASY  GREEK  EXERCISES  ON  ELEMENTARY  SYNTAX. 

[//;  prcparatio7i. 

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GREEK    TESTAMENT    SELECTIONS.      For    the    use    of 

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TAX.    With  Vocabulary.      Crozvn  Zvo.     2s.  6d. 

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32  Messrs.  Methuen's  List 

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OUS GRAM^L\R  AND  IDIOMS.    By  A.  M.  M.  Stedman,  M.A. 
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GERMAN  EXAMINATION  PAPERS  IN  MISCELLANE- 
OUS GRAMMAR  AND  IDIOMS.  By  R.  J.  Mokich,  Man- 
chester.    Third  Edition.     Key  (issued  as  above).     6^. 

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